#i’m just laying here awake replaying everything in my head

[mouthofthewolf-eyesofthelamb]

.

[nana-au]

𝐈 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄...

 𝜗𝜚 Satoru Gojo Prince AU ♡ part four

 𝜗𝜚 Summary: satoru has an announcement to make to the royal court. you don't think you could've ever prepare yourself for what it could be. the two of you see each other after months of no contact and the result is bitter sweet. story summary based off of this drabble

𝜗𝜚 Warnings: forbidden love, unspoken feelings, heavy angst, intense emotions, suggestive flirting, heated make out, cussing, depression symptoms, misguided anger, jealousy.

 𝜗𝜚 wc: 4,323

𝜗𝜚 an: there is a surprise guest from the jjk cast being introduced.. heh. dw he is just for the story and holds no interest in reader.

┊p1┊p2┊p3┊p4┊𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠... p5┊

“How do you like kitchen duty, my dear?” the Queen asks, the royal blue wallpaper of her study behind her head seems to shift like the ocean waves; rising and falling - dancing in the reflection of your pupils as your tea is poured for you. With a wave of her hand the Queen’s servant is dismissed and it’s just the two of you alone. The silence is unsettling as much as it is intoxicating. The kitchen is noisy - pots and pans clanging together, the repeated motion of knife hitting cutting board, and the bubbling sounds of a roiling boil. But then there is your room at night; the bed you climb into is decently soft and the covers keep you warm enough but you’re missing the noise of Satoru’s words. Before everything changed you would lay awake and replay every conversation with the Prince; your heart would pound remembering every brush of his hand or intense gaze he didn’t bother to hide. Instead now even your own thoughts have quieted, leaving your night void of any stimulation. 

“It’s been pleasant,” you respond, blowing on the hot tea you’ve brought to your lips. You don’t try very hard to sound convincing but if the Queen notices she doesn’t comment on it. 

“I’ve heard you have been getting pretty close to one of the men in the kitchen,” she wiggles her eyebrows, like you’re her girl friend and she’s genuinely interested in your potential love life. You’re not entirely sure where she got such information from; but it’s been clear to you for a while now. She has eyes and ears everywhere. 

“Forgive me, I’m not quite sure who you are referring to,” the tea is hot as you sip it, burning the taste buds you’ve barely been using these days. 

“Well, Nanami, of course,” she takes a moment to sip her own tea. “He’s handsome… quite burly too for working in a kitchen,” she’s smirking describing the man like it's the most entertaining gossip in the whole world. You guess it's not the worst thing she could potentially hear about you. All though, the worst had already been said. 

“He’s knowledgeable,” you tell her, stoic and devoid of any real emotion, “I enjoy learning what I can from him,” it’s a boring answer but your life is boring now. She frowns, almost a little disappointed that you won’t bite and indulge in ‘boy talk’ with her, but she continues on anyway. 

“That’s how your parents met, you know,” another long sip of her tea, “your father used to volunteer in the kitchens just to see your mother,” she’s obnoxiously giddy again and you can’t fight the sour taste of disgust. It feels more like she’s describing a silly little romance novel and not real people’s lives. It’s almost amusing knowing that as soon as your ‘silly little romance’ got too close to her son it was no longer exciting to her. You kept silent - having nothing worth commenting aloud as you waited for her to get to her point. She didn’t invite you here to gossip, your life had hardly been entertaining since 3 months ago when you were banished from Satoru’s presence. Her lips purse for a moment before she talks, “Well that’s not why I invited you here anyways,”

No shit. 

“I wanted to say thank you. I’m sure you’ve heard of our upcoming event in which Satoru will announce who he is courting,” you could have choked on air if you were not incredibly aware of yourself around the Queen. Instead you sucked in a quick breath. You had obviously been preparing for the event seeing as it was tomorrow and everyone in the kitchens scrambled around to get everything set for it - but you missed the part where it involved Satoru and his new potential partner. “I was incredibly worried for the future of our kingdom, and I appreciate your diligent work in securing that,” her words danced around the true meaning - but you weren’t a dunce. She was thanking you for hurting Satoru - and yourself in the process. A truly noble sacrifice indeed. You had to fight the desire to strangle yourself in front of her.  

“Of course,” is all you muster, not bothering to put on a brave face. 

“Remember the blonde Princess I talked about all those years ago?” she says, observing her pristine nails, “I knew Satoru would warm up to her if he tried,” your tea was gone by the end of her sentence and you lacked the stimulation now required for this conversation; your uneasiness eating away at your insides. 

“I’ve heard she’s lovely,” your throat is dry despite downing an entire cup of tea. 

“Oh more than lovely, if you could even imagine. I’ve never seen Satoru more at peace than when he’s listening to her playing piano. She’s quite the pianist!” 

𝜗𝜚

Satoru did indeed enjoy the times she played for him. The melody left no room for chatter. It was the only moment the two of them were together that he could close his eyes and rest; shutting down after hours of struggling to be present. He didn’t need to pretend to listen to how her day went or care about her childhood. He didn’t need to make up details about his day or share stories of his own youth that he struggled to edit you out of. He could just be. And that’s how Satoru preferred it. 

You would never know about it because ‘how could you?’ - but Satoru was a new man. Gone were the days of acting out or scoffing at his lessons. Gone were the days he preferred fencing to etiquette lessons. He now spent his time indoors because that’s where his bed was closest. His new favorite activity was painting. It was quiet and kept his mind occupied. He enjoyed painting with the new Princess the most - she would play while he would paint and as her hands created beautiful melodies Satoru’s created melancholy works of art

She peers a glance at his canvas over the piano, eyebrows furrowing as she notices the brooding blues, “You do realize this song is meant to elicit joy?” she inquires playfully, and Satoru apologizes. 

“Forgive me, I don’t have much experience with music theory,” his brush dips into the blue oil paint before dabbing it onto the course fabric. 

“Blue seems to be your favorite color,” she comments, her hands walking over each other as the keys come alive from her touch. 

Satoru nods, “I do enjoy reds too. Deep reds,” he murmurs. 

The color of his bleeding heart. 

𝜗𝜚

When the King and Queen announce a new ball, Satoru already understands the reason without being told. He had to fix his blunder - the one where he abandoned his duties and prioritized the pleasure your presence gave him. He hadn’t seen you since that day - but he was sure your face would bring him anything but pleasure nowadays. He was agreeing to the expectations of this new event without listening. It didn’t matter to him anyways. His life wasn’t his - this was a fact he could no longer be gullible about. 

That’s why he stood there in the center of the ballroom, fingers interlaced with the Princess as he smiled down at her like she meant something to him. Because his life wasn’t his and there were worse women in the world to be arranged to. The Princess really wasn’t all that bad. She was intelligent, respectful, charitable and incredibly humble. She knew there was more to life than her appearance all while being a sight for sore eyes. Satoru couldn’t have expected anyone more perfect for the role of his wife. With his heart now out of the picture - there was no better option than her. He could see that clearly now.

She nuzzled her head against his shoulder, hiding her blush as Satoru talked about the first day they met to an inquiring older man and that is when you finally see the two of them together. Surprisingly, you’re allowed out of your metaphorical cage - the King and Queen now fully entrusting you in the same room as Satoru after you successfully stomped out his light. You’re with the kitchen boy, Nanami, who was the Queen’s new show pony she liked to trot around; insisting he was there to describe the new hors d'oeuvre he created himself. Neither of you were entirely convinced the Queen thought that highly of the dish - rather than the idea of having such an esteemed cook now residing in her royal kitchen. Your jaw drops seeing the two of them next to each other. You had only seen paintings of the Princess, and even those did not prepare you for the intensity of her eyes and the silkiness of her hair. You were right all those years ago; next to Satoru wearing his family’s signature blue - she fit perfectly. 

And Satoru. Your Satoru. He looked so sorrowfully beautiful. His jaw was sharper and his eyes were darker but he was still Satoru and that fact alone made it impossible to look away. You had no right - but your watery eyes threatened to spill over watching the Prince hold hands with the Princess. A pitiful feeling fell over you once you realized you couldn’t read his expression. There had never been a day that you couldn’t skim his face like the pages of a book and pinpoint exactly what he was thinking - but now being in the same room with him after so long - you realized you were no longer privy to his thoughts like you used to be. Perhaps that ability was now reserved for the woman who held his hand. If it wasn’t so devastating you might have considered thanking the Queen for what she made you do. You had to have looked so silly beside him seeing the Princess in front of you now - appearing to be a piece of the same puzzle by his side. 

“Are you doing okay?” a deep voice prods your ear and you turn to see Nanami, standing by your side with a look of worry. The Queen wasn’t entirely wrong when she spoke of rumors that the two of you were close - you were in a lot of ways. Just not in the way she found most interesting. Nanami taught you a lot of skills in the kitchen. He showed you the best ways to cut vegetables and the importance of never looking away from milk boiling on a stove top. He told you stories of his travels in search of the best ingredients and his experience being raised on the country-side of a faraway nation whose people were dying of hunger. How his life as a child shaped him into who he was to this day: a seasoned cook who the highest of society paid a pretty penny to grace their kitchens. For some time you spared him the details of your life and he took it well - waiting for the moment you decided he was someone you could trust - and once you did it seemed to flow out of you and never stop. He knew all about your childhood with Satoru and how things became the way they are now. He didn’t scoff at you for daring to imagine yourself next to a Prince or gawk at the audacity it must take to delude yourself into believing your life could possibly be different than those before you. He just listened while he prepared a snack for the two of you. It was cathartic being around someone who carried as much baggage as you. The two of you were stronger than ever by each other’s side, and that is why you stood with him while he talked to the snobs he couldn’t stand and he stood with you while you watched the Prince make his love interest known to everyone. “Go take a moment for yourself, I’ll cover for you,” he offered and you shook your head.

“I promised I wouldn’t leave you alone with these assholes,” you say, earning a chuckle from the blond man next to you. You look up at him and all though he’s laughing his eyes don’t contain humor - more concerned for you while witnessing the same display you had to. He knew it couldn’t be easy.

He leaned in once more, “Well if you change your mind, I won’t be mad,” you smile at him, grateful that you weren’t entirely alone in your new reality. 

𝜗𝜚

Just like the two of you could see the royal couple they could see you too - if they knew what to look for. You caught the Prince’s eye while he took a sip of his champagne, using it as a moment to take in the scene around him until he spotted you. He didn’t know what to expect when he first considered the possibility of running into you again; you two inhabited the same estate and though it was big you had your whole lives to bump into each other. Originally he thought his anger would get the better of him once he finally laid eyes on you. Or he considered that given enough time had passed, looking into your eyes wouldn’t elicit any kind of emotion in him - completely indifferent to your role in his life, like all other servants. What he didn’t expect was for his heart to fail him, the once slow pace now jump started with adrenaline. His heart rate was wild and his pupils dilated. The bubbly drink that usually burned on the way down had effortlessly passed his throat and entered his stomach that grew weak with just one look at you. If he wasn’t careful the Princess beside him would take note of how he completely removed himself from their conversation - but careful he could not be. He wanted to curse his cheeks for warming up at the mere thought of breathing the same air as you… how could he be present? Satoru wouldn’t have even noticed the man standing next to you if not for the way his tall form towered over you, blocking you from the Prince’s view. That’s when Satoru began to grow just a little more aware of his surroundings - or more so your surroundings. While he repeated the words you said to him that day like it was a prayer he couldn’t help but retell before bed - lest he forget - he still fought the logical side of him begging him to accept your words as fact. But he couldn’t because he couldn’t accept your own interpretation of your feelings while you shook and sniffled in the stables. He believed you wanted nothing more to do with him - but he thought the pressure of fighting for your rightful place in his life was one you could no longer stomach. That was what caused him the pain he felt each passing moment. That you lost your fight because Satoru wasn’t worth it. But how could he believe you lost your fight when you had no one in your life pressuring you to move on like he did - yet there you stood seemingly cozy next to the tall man beside you. Perhaps the thought of you giving up on Satoru hurt his heart less and that was why he settled on that thought, instead of the earth-shattering possibility that you could have actually wanted nothing to do with him.

So why would you have kissed him?

𝜗𝜚

It was a quiet afternoon when the two of you decided to stroll through the garden’s after Satoru’s tea break. You often found it beneficial to have Satoru spend time outside inbetween his lessons - he would have a new found focus when given the chance to allow his mind to wander in the cool air that the spring time offered. His fingers would busy themselves with the petals of a flower and you would walk in silence beside him, listening to him ramble or letting him bask in the tranquility nature offered. 

That day was one of those times Satoru pondered silently and you let him, enjoying the unique flowers the Gojo’s had planted from all across the globe while you walked by his side. His face was scrunched in thought and his hands were busy with the stem of a lily, using his thumbs to pry the plant open to feel around its sticky insides. You two were deep in your walk, the garden trail extending surprisingly far on the Gojo’s lawn. The estate was now hidden by the yards of thick bushes that separated the trail from other parts of their extensive property. Satoru let out a breath you didn’t realize he was holding, and you turned to look at him. 

He seemed anxious, the tips of his ears were deep red and his face was scrunched with worry. “Did you get a sunburn, Satoru?” you ask him, stopping him in his tracks to get a better look at his ears. They were hot to the touch as you inspected them but he was antsy rather than in pain from the grip you had on his cartilage.

“What do you think about kissing?” he asked, his cheeks turning as red as his ears. You giggle at him, not because it was random - no that was normal for Satoru - but the topic was a bit suspicious.

“Why do you ask?” you all but flirt - finding the confidence to since you had the upper hand.

“I don’t know… it just kept coming up in the book I’ve been reading,” he puts simply, trying to end the conversation he brought up. It was rare for Satoru to embarrass himself like such, and it was going to be hard for him to get you to ignore it. 

“You've been thinking a lot about kissing, haven't you?” you continue to tease, and he scratches the back of his neck. 

“No!” he scoffs, “Just.. nevermind,” the flower he was dissecting was discarded for a new one - his fingers plucking the petals before tearing into the ovule roughly. 

“I don’t know what I think about kissing, I’ve never kissed,” you answer his original question, engaging him back into the conversation. 

“Me neither,” he responded, defiling the poor flower a little less since you had his attention. ‘What do you think it’s like?” It’s your turn to blush and he definitely realizes his newfound control over the conversation - turning the tables on you as he begins to poke you about it. “It’s probably wet, right? Well if you used tongue,” you’re a blushing mess listening to your best friend describe something such as tongue-kissing and he’s smiling at you. His pearly white teeth sparkle under the sun while he continues his torture, “I’d imagine it’s warm too - and soft. Your lips look soft,” he comments and you could feel yourself struggling to hold back your bashful reaction. He knew how to work you up just like you knew how to work him up. Unfortunately he was a little bit better at it than you - or you were just more susceptible under his gaze. He comes in closer to you - you think just to tease you further and get your heart to racket against your chest and you’re not entirely wrong. It’s hard to focus when his broad shoulders contrast yours and when you feel the palm of his hand touch your sternum to feel the pounding of your heart - you can’t fathom how you’re still standing on your own. “Your heart rate is fast,” he comments, pretending he has no concept as to why that could be. 

“You flirt too much, Satoru,” you grumble at him, trying and failing to steady your heart beats with him so close. His breath smells sweet like the candies he eats and you can’t protect your nose from the pleasant musk that clings to his skin. 

“I’m not flirting. I’m just asking you a question,” he’s somehow closer and his hand won’t leave the spot between your breasts. 

“Yeah. Kissing is probably warm and wet and whatever else you said,” you mumble, desperate to crawl away from him while simultaneously scared of losing physical contact with him. 

“Maybe we should test our hypothesis,” he’s still smiling but his eyes don’t match; half lidded while he observes the twitch of your lips at his words. You gulp, unable to keep yourself from looking at his own pair of lips. You note that they look soft too, even when he bites at them upon noticing you’re doing the same as him. “It can just be a quick one,” he says, almost like he’s trying to convince you now like he’s already convinced himself years ago. Unbeknownst to him you needed very little convincing. 

“Just a quick one,” you all but breathe out, and the two of you are leaning in without realizing it until your lips meet. Your lips feel plump against his, soft like the pillow he lays his head on at night and he doesn’t want it to end. His hand meets your jaw, holding you still while his lips get used to the feeling of yours against them. Your hands come up to grip his shirt, bracing yourself while he slowly deepens it, testing the waters by slowly poking his tongue inside your mouth. You pull back, yelping at the unexpected intrusion. 

“Do you trust me?” he asks, voice sultry and deep and you nod at him, going back in for more. He starts slowly again, pecking your lips softly before working his way up to prodding his tongue cautiously against your sweet lips. You let him in and he all but groans, gripping your waist with his other hands so he can feel you pressed up against him. You both have no idea what you’re doing, teeth and tongues hesitantly clashing as you explore each other’s mouths. His pulse quickens when you let out a weak moan muffled by his mouth hot against yours. His hand on your jaw slowly works its way down your neck, across your collarbone, before hesitantly stopping at the start of your breast. You’re both clouded by the haze created between the two of you, unaware of your surroundings until you hear the scurry of an animal. You both pull away - scanning the area with no luck of finding the creature that caused it. You clear your throat and try your best to pull yourself together - but it’s hard when his eyes are so dark and his lips are so red and glossy from your spit.

“Let’s get back, Satoru. Your teacher will be expecting you soon,” and off you go, with Satoru trailing behind you.

𝜗𝜚

Satoru had never felt the foreign concept of competition in regards to you. It must be the reason he felt such vitriolic jealousy seeing you next to another man. He had no time to consider himself a fool. He wanted nothing more than to see his nose smashed in and your eyes on him again. 

But Satoru had to remind himself he was different. He was no longer the old Satoru whose emotions reigned over his logic. While the new Satoru was born through pain, it would do him good to act on the new things he learned; like patience. 

And patience he needed when later that night he found himself wandering into the kitchen for a glass of water - expecting the room to be empty and overcome with shock when he saw you there. You’re not alone either. The man from earlier guided your hand as you two fileted a fish. And what an odd sight it was - seeing your back pressed up another man’s chest as he carefully guided your knife against the belly of a salmon. Nanami notices the Prince first, respectfully removing his guiding hands and you look up, mouth agape at the sight of the unimpressed Prince in front of you. “Prince Gojo,” you both say, bowing respectfully at him. “How can we be of service?” Nanami asks, still stuck in his bow to Satoru. For the first time in your life you see Satoru ponder his next words and it is almost as shocking as being in the same room as him for the second time after going no-contact all those months ago. You aren’t used to him thinking so long about what to say; you’d always known him to speak his mind unfiltered. It made you incredibly uneasy.

“Are they aware you two occupy the kitchens after they’re meant to be closed,” he asks and you’re even more confused. Satoru? Becoming a stickler for rules? Your jaw hung open just for a moment when you remembered to pick it back up. 

“We’re very sorry, your royal highness. We will be sure to clean up and head off to bed,” Nanami is nothing short of respectful but Satoru still can’t hold back a scoff, turning his head to glance your way. His eyes miss their softness you’ve always been used to and you cower under his eyes, keeping your gaze on the ground until he finally turns around and leaves. 

𝜗𝜚

That night is the first night you let yourself think about Satoru again, now having many things to think about as you lay awake in your bed. 

He looked… almost disappointed in you? You try to fight the idea of him caring what you chose to do, chalking it up to your hopeless wanting that he was as stuck on you as you were stuck on him. But you saw him tonight with the Princess; getting close to her like he only ever did with you and you know you can’t let yourself get caught up in misguided optimism - Satoru had moved on and did exactly what you needed him to do… So why did that realization have to be so unbelievable to you?

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┊p1┊p2┊p3┊p4┊𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠... p5┊

(ty for all the support! comment to be added/removed)

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

In Love and War IIII

Author's Note: I hit a massive writer's slump, thank you for all your patience! Have some Smut, as a treat!

Content Warnings: SMUT with Some Plot I Swear--Masturbation, I guess there's kinda a hint of hate-fucking here but only if you squint, Exhibitionism, Thigh Riding (it's always the hands and thighs of this man I swear it's all I think about); Canon Typical Violence, Character Death (Unnamed), Mentions of Starvation/Abuse.

Summary: Reader grapples with her feelings towards Rhysand and what she has to do to save her people.

Previous Chapter/ Masterlist

---------

Rhysand is the enemy. His hands have spilled the blood of thousands of innocents. He’s most likely torturing people as we speak. He. Is. The. Enemy.

So why do I lie awake, hours after he’s gone, still thinking about how his hands had felt on my skin? Why do I lay here, tracing the path his lips had taken down my throat and collarbones, around my chest and sides, imagining what might have happened if we hadn’t been interrupted?

He is the enemy. I plan to seduce and destroy him. I will make him pay for all the pain he has caused me and my people.

But who is supposed to tell my body that everything that happened tonight isn’t real? That it’s all part of the plan to get him to let his guard down, I’m not actively interested in sleeping with him. I’m not! 

It’s just that I haven’t slept with anybody in a long time--that has to be it right? What other explanation do I have for the lingering ache between my legs? For the wandering thoughts of what those hands might have felt like between my thighs?

Every time I close my eyes I replay that moment: The feel of his warm body atop mine, callused hands roaming my skin, lips sucking marks into my throat. Gods I let Rhysand give me hickeys!

I’m going to die of shame.

If the need boiling in the pit of my stomach doesn’t take me out first.

I absolutely refuse to do anything about it! I won’t. Selling my soul to get information is one thing, to try and get off while imagining my enemy is a whole other evil. I can’t! It’s all kinds of fucked up.

I think there might actually be something wrong with me, because the more I try and tell myself it’s wrong, the more wetness I feel between my legs, the tighter the coil in my belly grows. My body actively wants something my brain refuses to let me acknowledge, and so I lay there in a bed that smells so much like him, trying to keep my hands off my still bare skin. I should, at the very least, get up and find where Rhysand had thrown my sweater. He’ll get the wrong idea if he comes back to find me still topless in bed. The middle of the night’s a hard time to get information out of anyone, there’s no reason to try and pick up where we left off tonight. I should just go to sleep.

I pull the pillow over my head and try to imagine all the gruesome, brutal ways he’s probably torturing his captives so I’m no longer laying here thinking about his body. It should work like an ice bath, right? But my mind will not linger on thoughts of blood, only how hot he’d looked scrubbing it off those swirls of ink around his bare chest earlier.

He’s going to be the death of me!

It’s like I can’t escape him. The scent of him is all over the bed, no matter where I lay or how many blankets I shift around. His touch lingers on my skin, the more I try to fight it, the more I find my hands trying to replicate the feeling. I roll my nipple between my fingers, imagining the feel of his calluses against my sensitive peaks. My other hand slides down my stomach, slipping easily beneath the worn waistband of my pants.

This is wrong!

I pull my hand away with a groan. I cannot be doing this.

He is the enemy.

I am doing the seducing. Not him. Me! And I have to have more willpower than this. I can’t be so Cauldron damned horny that a couple kisses gets me this worked up! Seriously, how does one male have this much sway over me already?

I can fight this. I am stronger than this…

I make it all of five minutes before my hand is once again sliding beneath my waistband, tracing its way down to the pool of wetness gathering between my thighs. 

He is the enemy.

Yet he would have found no resistance if he stayed. I would have easily surrendered under his touch, let it ignite a wildfire beneath my skin until I’d willingly spread my legs and let him take whatever he needed from my body. I hate the very thought of it, but I know, as my hips buck feverishly against my own hand, that I would have done it. 

“Rhys,” the whimper slips past my lips before I can bite it down, pleasure licking white hot down my spine. I’m too far gone to even be mortified at this point, chasing that high while my imagination runs wild with all the things that might have been tonight. 

It’s unfair that the sheets smell so strongly of him, only fueling my imagination, all the way to the edge of such jarring bliss. Only then does my body finally relax, my thoughts satiated for now. I can be mortified in the morning. Surely, I’ll hate myself in the light of day, but tonight, tonight I’m exhausted and I finally feel comfortable enough to sleep.

----

My dreams are full of my people hurling rocks at me, chasing me out of the Grasslands, calling me a traitor and a whore, Tam telling me never to come back; I try to visit my parents grave, but can never find it, as even in death they cannot bear to be near me.  The guilt I feel upon waking is worse than I imagined it could be. How could I be doing this? How could I want it?

The guilt  makes my skin itch. Every bit of me feels like it needs to be scrubbed down to the bone. I climb out of the bed and go to the basin of water to attempt to get clean. There’s a small mirror hanging from a string against the wall, the worn glass giving a spotty view of the bruises across my throat. I’d let Rhysand give me, not just one, but four hickeys, trailing down past my collarbone. There might have been more were it not for my appearance. I trail the damp towel down my torso, fingers ticking against my ribs like piano keys. I’m so godsdamned thin. It’s not unusual, most of my people are, save for Tamlin and his riders--riders always get first dibs on supplies, the rest of us get the scraps, especially when we haven’t been claimed--but I’d never thought about how bad it might look to someone outside of camp. With the scars I bear from my father’s temper, this looks intentional.

I glance up at the circles under my eyes, my reflection in the mirror hollow as a chill runs through me. Supplies have been thin lately, but… Dear old Dad had intentionally withheld supplies from the un-marked in camp as an incentive to get them to bend the knee, Tam knew that, was trained to do it, and he’d been so miserable lately, it wasn’t intentional, right?

I give myself a shake. Tam’s cold even on his good days, but he’d never intentionally do that to me, no matter how unruly I’ve been in the last couple weeks before this mess. Lucien would always sneak me snacks for him on days he was too busy to come see me; I’m just being paranoid. Being here is messing with my brain.

I toss the dirty towel in a bin and untie my hair. There’s no brushes around so I use my fingers to comb through the knots and tie it loosely behind my head. It’s only when I’m done and half way into my discarded sweater that the tent flap blows open and Mor storms her way in.

“Oh good, you’re awake!” She says by way of greeting.

How is she so perky all the time?

There’s a large bag in her hands that she hurls at me with surprising strength. “Time to get dressed! We’ve got a busy day ahead of us.”

“What’s the occasion?” I should feel excited with the prospect of getting out there and getting new information, but what are the chances we’re going right to Rhysand? How am I supposed to look at him after last night? No I think it’s for the better if I just sit right here in this tent and continue to torture myself with my thoughts. 

“Dress first, talk second,” she returns, hands reaching to help untie the bag since I’m moving too slow for her liking. Bits of dark cloth poke out, the bottom of the bag heavy and lumpy in a way that makes me think I’m holding a pair of shoes. 

Mor pulls out a top, the material as dark as her own, though hers has sleeves, this has none, just a band across my torso. The inside is lined with fur at least. I don’t even have time to question it before she starts pulling the other stuff out and rushing me to get dressed. There’s a moment where I think she might actually start undressing me if I don’t start moving, so I dip behind the bed for some privacy, clothes bundled under my arm. 

The skirt 's more loose fabric cinched around my hips than an actual skirt, nearly all my legs on display. I stare at the vast expanse of my skin and then up at Mor. “Please tell me there’s pants to go with these?” I don’t want to sound ungrateful since my clothes are barely holding on as is, but I also really don’t want to be walking around camp mostly naked either. 

“You’ve got nice legs,” she says, eyes roving over me approvingly. “You’ll look hot.”

“I feel naked,” I retort.

“You’ll adjust. Now hurry up!”

The top is warm but it leaves my arms bare, and even the fur lined ankle boots don’t keep me as warm as I would be if I had a pair of pants. “I really don’t want to sound ungrateful-”

“No time for second thoughts, you’re committed to it now.” Mor interrupts, ushering me over to the mirror again to adjust my hair. 

Her delicate fingers brush over my throat as she works and she grins at me in the reflection of the mirror. “Have some fun last night, did we?”

A blush makes its way across my cheeks. “Well, um…”

She laughs as she braids, blue eyes twinkling as she continues to watch my reflection. “I see now why he picked this top. Gotta show everyone your his.” Mor rolls her eyes. “Males! Always so territorial. Though, if I were you, I’d give him a few back in return.”

“Why do I have competition?” I blurt out. That’s a stupid question to ask. Look at him! Of course I’d have competition. But, despite myself, a flicker of jealousy worms its way into my chest.

“Oh there’s quite a few people in camp who’d literally kill to be you,” she returns as she pins my hair to the top of my haid. Using her fingers, she pulls a few loose strands free to frame my face. “He’s been eligible for a long time now.”

“How come?” I ask as she grabs my shoulders and turns me around so she can apply some dark makeup under my eyes.

The amusement in her eyes fades a bit as she says, “His wife…” She clears her throat and turns away to find where she left a tube of lip color. “Feyre. She was killed a couple years ago by Amarantha.”

My breath catches in my throat, chest heavy with the thought. “Oh.”

“He’s been a ghost since she died,” Mor gives herself a little shake as she turns back with the color and dabs a bit of maroon on my lips. “I’ve watched all these females throw themselves at him and it’s like he can’t see them. Usually the males in my family move on quick, you know? Gotta keep the bed warm somehow, right?”

I nod, having seen it well enough back home. 

“But Rhys…” she sighs. “I thought Rhys died that day too, but now you’re here and I can see a little life in his eyes again. I didn’t think that was possible.”

Gods the guilt is coming back! I should be glad that this monster got a fraction of the pain he caused others inflicted on him, but instead, my heart only aches for him, as if I can feel that pain in my own chest. The female he loved was dead and the monster that killed her was once again knocking on his doorstep. No wonder he’d asked for a distraction last night! And I’d planned to take advantage of that vulnerability.

My stomach turns. 

Mor grips my hands tightly. “I’m glad you’re here. I think he needs you, ya know?”

Please, Mother, kill me! Strike me with lightning or let the ground open up and swallow me. I am a horrible, terrible person.

“You’re too kind, Mor, really I don’t think-” but she doesn’t let me finish as she gives herself a little shake to collect herself and starts ushering me towards the door.

“Now we gotta hurry! We’re gonna be late!”

The early morning light rushes to meet us, such a stark contrast to the darkness of the tent. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, her hand on my wrist leading me along, oblivious to how blind I am. Once I can finally see, I try to take stock of my surroundings and get my bearings. The set-up is a semi-circle of tents, all open and bustling with activity. Fae of all shape and sizes hurry from their tents, the males wearing fighting leathers, the females wearing variations of my own get-up. No one even glances our way, save for the lone male stalking towards us. He’s massive, a head taller than everyone he passes, a giant sword strapped between his tightly tucked wings. I recognize the sword as one I’d seen on one of Rhysand’s riders, though I hadn’t gotten a chance to glimpse his face then. He’s handsome, his dark hair tied back out of his face with a long string. A bit of stubble dusts his jaw, barely hiding a scar that cuts his way across his cheek. 

“Y/N, this is Cassian,” Mor introduces, no trace of her earlier seriousness to be found. She is once again all smiles. “He’s Rhys’s general.”

General. He certainly looks the part. He could crush my head with his biceps alone if he wanted! 

I don’t know how to move in these stupid skirts, let alone curtsey or bow in any sort of way as I would have back home so all I can manage is to dip my head in greeting. “Hello.” I hope it's enough to not offend this hulking mass of a male.

Despite his size, an easy-going grin cuts across his face. “Glad to officially meet you, Y/N!” His voice booms, even under the din of the rushing crowd. “We should get moving, he’s waiting.”

“Waiting for what?” I ask Mor, wrapping my arms around myself as a breeze hits me head on.

“You didn’t tell her?” Cassian returns.

“He told me not to,” Mor retorts as she loops her arm through mine to help lead me forward. 

This is not instilling anything but anxiety in me, but this is my chance to look around  so I have to take it. Not that the cold helps. It’s an effort to try and count the tents as my teeth start chattering. 

We follow the crowd down the hill, past a set of sentries that guard the path at the bottom as we head into the main encampment. Some of the people around whisper to each other in a mixture of languages, but there is too much moving and noise for me to get a good grasp on what’s being said. Mor doesn’t say anything either, just keeps one arm looped in mine and the other in Cassian’s to keep us from getting separated.

Once inside the main encampment, past another set of sentires, the path splits and becomes rows of tents, laid out like city streets. I’ve never seen a camp look so methodically laid out, each space like a well groomed and planned street. There are even amounts of tents on each side, firepits and places to sit breaking up the road between them. It’s all very homey and… permanent. A spike of envy rises in my chest as I take it in. This is not a camp that ups and moves frequently. It is settled and intentional in its spacing. It might not be the cities the Night Court once boasted in the days before Hybern, but it is still far more a city than the Grasslands had ever seen. I try to count them as we pass, but lose my train of thought after fifty, when the road starts to thin and people push in around us from every direction. I will have to get back another time and recount. 

The path continues forward, for some time, growing smaller and smaller until we come to a standstill. Mor huffs something about being late as we’re forced to wait under the rising sun as whatever is ahead of us gets closer, one step at a time. Eventually, a large amphitheater comes into view, set deep into the ground like a giant, stone step flanked pit. It must have taken months to dig this deep, let alone shape the stones into such smooth edges. How long has this encampment been here? 

It takes what feels like an hour to reach the flat edge at the top where holes have been drilled into it so that banners can be held aloft, each massive pole waving a different flag. There are multiple Night Court black flags, the shimmering triple stars over matching mountains, but there are others too: Twin Wyverns chasing each other’s tales, their golden maws open and ready to snatch and eat the other; A set of bat-like wings open and extended across a crimson flag, an eight point star at its center. Under each banner, crowded atop the steps are fae of all shapes and sizes, all separated into sections, their clothes matching the color of the banner they sit or stand under. I’ve never seen anything like it. I want to take a second to take it in but I can’t focus on any of it. Not when, at the heart of the pit, standing over two bound figures, is the male that claims to be my mate.

My breath hitches in my chest when I see him. 

He is the enemy. 

This is the male that stormed into our camp all those years ago, this is the male that slaughtered my people in cold blood. Any warmth I had ever seen in those, nearly glowing, violet eyes is gone, only cold indifference remains. Atop his raven hair sits an obsidian crown, the pointed centerpiece glittering with three gems in the center, a nod to the stars marked on the arm of every person crammed into the amphitheater. He wears fighting leathers, but not the ones he’d worn into battle, these are all black, polished to a shine in the early morning light. And his wings! By the Cauldron, I’ve never paid so much attention to anything as I watch the massive membrane flare out behind him, decorated in swirling patterns of violet and blue ink, the patterns a twin to the tattoos that circle over his exposed biceps. He looks every bit a Lord. No, every bit a Dark Prince. Wisps of darkness slither off his shoulders, twining over his fingertips, dancing around his hips and thighs. I feel the power of him in my veins as Cassian leads us down the steps.

No one pays us any mind as we pass, their attention and anger, judging by the shouts they throw, are all honed at the males kneeling at Rhysand’s feet. They’ve been stripped down to their underthings, bare chests slashed with even, precise lines of a blade, the blood long since dried. Both have short, dark hair and eyes so black it looks like all pupil. There are more slashes beneath their eyes, the marks fresher than the others, a few droplets of blood dripping down their cheeks like tears. 

Cassian leads us to the bottom row, where I recognize the shadowy figure of Azriel, saving us a spot. The other male stands with his arms crossed over his chest, the dagger he’d been spinning in his hands last night now safely strapped to his thigh. I shiver as he puts a hand on my back to motion me into a seat between him and Cassian, with Mor squeezing her way in between him and I so we remain together. The shouting of the crowd grows louder with each passing second, the volume and anger making my hair stand on end. I find myself reaching out for Mor’s hands, huddled beside her for both warmth and protection. 

Up until this point, Rhysand has been pacing, hands clasped behind his back, wings flaring behind him. Only once I’m seated does his gaze flick to me, eyes roving over my new attire and I hate the flutter in my stomach the look brings me. I should want him to be looking at me like that, but after what Mor had said, after what I’d done once he’d left… I look away quickly, torn more than ever on what I’m supposed to do here. 

I feel, more than see, the little smirk he gets as his eyes linger on the marks he’d left on my throat, but am spared from any more thoughts about last night when he finally looks away to address the crowd. It’s first in Illyrian, then in Basic. The change in languages makes his voice deeper, huskier; I’m more drawn to it than I’d like to be. Many things about the male are attractive, I’m not so blinded by disdain for him that I don’t notice them, his voice among the top qualities. There are quite a few females around me who lean forward in their seats, enraptured with his every word. It’s almost distracting enough that I forget there are two bound men at his feet.

Almost. My eyes flick to them. Their wounds are precise, methodical, not so deep it’ll kill them, but not so shallow it doesn’t hurt. They keep their heads to their chest as Rhysand speaks, dark eyes darting around for an escape. They say Amarantha’s men are worse monsters than the Illyrians, but they certainly don’t look terrifying now. They’re scrawny, like someone had plucked them off the street, no scars upon their skin to reveal any past battle wounds. I can’t decide if that means they’ve never seen a battle until now or if Amarantha’s fighting men have such an advantage that they’ve never been injured in one. 

“Amarantha thinks that she can do whatever she wants,” Rhysand’s voice booms across the amphitheater, the worn stones trembling beneath us. Darkness mists off his body, violet eyes glowing like starlight in his tan face. “But Hybern and his General have no power here!”

The crowd roars in agreement, some of the fighting men on their feet now, stamping the butts of their spears against the ground. 

“These are our lands!”

My ears ring under the din of the crowd. Mor grips my hand a little tighter to keep me steady. At least she’d been right about one thing: The amount of bodies packed into here makes the cold a little bearable, but I press as close to her as I can all the same. 

“We have bled and died for it!” Rhysand continues. “And we proved last night that we are not to be underestimated! We proved that if Amarantha thinks she can come here and take what is rightfully ours, that there will be blood to pay!”

A shiver runs up my spine as he speaks. Not just at what he says, but the truth of it. There is no mourning here. The injured in the crowd are few--only a handful of males sport bandages, no blood seeping through the white linen as if even the wounds that had landed were superficial and healing, not the open, bleeding mess I’m so used to seeing--and he’d said last night that his men had no casualties. Not only were their numbers greater than I had anticipated, but their powers are far beyond what we feared they were. Rhysand himself is a living testament to that. There isn’t anyone among us who doesn’t feel the reverberations of his power in our veins. His darkness doesn’t just flow from him, it ebbs into us, brushes against every person present like it’s introducing itself to us one by one. I don’t need to see him in battle to know that he can easily blow Amarantha’s men away by himself. He won’t even need an army.

I swallow the lump in my throat. Am I prepared to go up against a one man army?

“And we will make sure that is a lesson that bitch never forgets!” Rhysand roars as stars glitter around his outstretched hand, twinning between his fingers. His wings flair out behind him, the apex talons at the tip growing sharper, the violet of his eyes deepening, I swear I see fangs forming in his mouth. He’s not just powerful, he’s something wholly other.

The crowd jumps to its feet demanding the heads of the two males bound before them, and their Lord obliges, using a glittering trail of starlight to separate their heads from their shoulders, blood splatter across the stones. 

Rhysand lifts their heads up by the hair, admiring his work with nothing but pure satisfaction as he calls Azriel over to him. “Why don’t you deliver these to their doorstep?”

The shadowy figure of Azriel doesn’t even break stride as he grabs the heads from his lord and vanishes into shadow with them.

Interesting, so they know where Amarantha’s camp is? Tam had never been able to track her. Or maybe he’d never tried. 

Rhysand flicks the blood off his hands as he looks to the crowd and says, “We can expect a swift response, so let us be ready.”

A shiver runs down my spine at the thought. He can’t really be trying to take on Amarantha, can he?

“Bring all your un-marked forward, let us ensure the protection of those within our borders before we prepare to strengthen outside it.”

Shit!

I’d forgotten about that part. Why else would this outfit they’d dressed me up in not have sleeves unless they needed to mark me? It should have been obvious from the beginning but I’ve been so in my head I haven’t even stopped to think about the reasons behind all this. 

Mor grabs my arm gently, but I feel the strength hidden behind it regardless. She thinks I might try and run. Truth be told, I want to. How am I supposed to go home with Rhysand’s mark? Even if I manage to get all their numbers and weaknesses, that mark is permanent. It might literally be the signature on my death warrant, no matter what information I take home.

But it also puts me right in the middle of all important matters here. Rhysand said he wanted me to ride out with him. The things I could see if I do that! I’d know how many fighting men he has, would learn battle strategies and weak points, all things no one back home has ever been able to touch. 

Thankfully, Mor helps me stand, my shoes feel like they're full of sand. Even if I’m ready to face Rhysand, am I ready to face Tamlin when this is all said and done? 

Around me, males and females all step forward. A few struggle against it, having to be pulled down into the center of the amphitheater, others go alone, heads high. They’ll have to go through the blood littering the floor to get there, which is clever on Rhysand’s part. Swearing fealty here, after blood has been spilled makes this oath all the more magically binding. We’re all entered into a blood oath without spilling any of our own to do it. 

I let Mor lead me forward, despite every instinct to run. I will be closer than anyone to Rhysand. I can give my people the chance they deserve at having a good life. Maybe, when this is all said and done, this walled in haven could be a place we could call home, safe from war and hunger. I can ensure our future, all I have to do is damn myself to do it.

And put this male through more misery. The image of him last night, the dark circles around his eyes flashes across my mind and I have to give myself a little shake to rid myself of it. I can’t let one tragedy sway me, how many tragedies has he himself caused? 

My chest aches, I rub absently at it like that might relieve the tension. He is the enemy. I have to keep telling myself that, over and over, until it’s ingrained into my very thought process. One loss cannot compare to what he has put us through. I have to think about all the lives I will save instead of the one he has lost. 

It takes so much time for me to convince myself that I am capable of doing this that I genuinely miss everyone’s else’s pledge to Rhysand. By the time I am settled and ready to raise my head again, it’s just me and him, and a river of spilled blood between us. A fitting meeting ground I suppose. 

Mor gives my arm one last squeeze before she slips into Cassian’s arms and I swear the whole world centers in to just me and the massive Illyrian before me. He looks even more a dark prince up close.

“Hello, mate,” he purrs.

I swallow the lump in my throat. Don’t throw up here, don’t throw up in front of all these people.

Rhysand leans in close enough for me to smell the citrus and jasmine scent of him, the heady fragrance invading all my senses like it's trying to carve itself into veins. I’ve never been more aware of his size compared to mine. “Kneel,” his voice is a lover's caress, made for the gentle darkness of the bedroom. “Take my mark, so that you’ll have our full protection, and then you and I can have some fun.”

Those violet eyes flick to my bruised throat, his fangs biting into his lower lip as he admires his work and heat rushes through me. I want to play, just as readily as I had last night, maybe more. 

I tear my gaze away first. There’s no going back from this. 

My heartbeat is a clanging gong in my ears, breath a heavy rasp that tears from my throat as I lower myself onto my knees. The rough stones bite into my exposed flesh; the blood now cold against my skin. 

Rhysand reaches out to touch my cheek, thumb stroking over my skin as he nods encouragingly. His touch makes me think of last night, and what I had done in the aftermath of having those hands on me. I’d managed to not think about it until now, but now that the thought is here, I can’t stop it anymore than I could last night. Heat licks its way up my spine. 

He is the enemy. I am not supposed to feel like this while on my knees, I am supposed to hate him. I really need to pull it together.

“I-” Am I even capable of separating myself from what I want and need to do here? I can’t stop thinking about how badly I want his hands on my body. It’s not supposed to be like this!

“I swear fealty to you, My Lord.” Am I supposed to say something flowery? Make some grand gesture? I never really paid that much attention during these things, I’d spent most of my time trying to figure out how to get out of them, not into one.

The words are barely out of my mouth before I feel a tingling sensation shoot its way up my arm, from fingertips to shoulder. It’s not painful, feels like my arm fell asleep and lost feeling, even though I still have all my motor functions. When I glance down at the source of the discomfort, a band of ink colored darkness spreads across my skin. It moves in swirling patterns across my bicep, twisting and twining until the familiar pattern of triple stars makes itself clear among the ink. We brand people with an iron in the Grasslands, this magic tattoo is a new sight for me.

Rhysand takes my hand and helps me to my feet before I can even think about reaching out a hand to feel the new piece of me. I don’t even have time to feel guilty about it either, not when he’s crashing his lips against mine, the hunger he feels palpable as his hand slides into my hair. 

The crowd whoops and hollers, reminding me that they’re even there. I’d truly forgotten about them up until now. 

His other hand still strokes my face as he pulls away just enough to say, “I swear, no harm will come to you under our watch.” 

Lofty promises I’m sure, but with the crowd pressing in, now that the spectacle is over, there is not much time to dwell on it either. The next couple of minutes pass in a blur as we all shift from the amphitheater to a mess tent full of benches and long tables full of food and drink.

Rhysand hasn’t let go of my hand, not even at Mor’s insistence that she should get to show me around. The mark might as well be a rope tied around our wrists, dragging me along beside him as he greets various soldiers and sentries. 

The heat of the room soon makes me forget I was ever cold in the first place, a sheen of sweat clinging to my skin the longer we linger. 

In the back center of the tent is the seat of honor, it alone has a single table, everyone else crowds into each other, clambering for seats with no real order. The fighting men mingle with the elders and children and maids alike; the armored sentries dumping their helmets on the tables, the horse hair plumes drifting over the worn wood, holding spots next to the seats of scantily dressed dancers. 

As everyone finds their seats, serving girls start bringing in the food and drink, until all the tables are full of dozens of dishes I can’t name. My stomach rumbles as Rhysand leads me along, an arm looped around my waist like he thinks I might slip away at any moment. He hasn’t stopped touching me since his mark wrote its way across my right arm; a good thing for my plan, I suppose, but I my mind won’t stop narrowing in on the way his fingers dance over my hip bone or the strength of his arms around me. To some degree, I feel small next to him, but not in a way I can convince myself I hate. Not in the way I had felt small back home. 

It’s not long before Rhysand claims this would-be throne and before I can ask where I should disappear to, the warlord is gripping me by the hips and pulling me into his lap! My brain short circuits, all rational thought flying out the window.

He slots one powerful thigh between my, very exposed, legs the scrape of his leathers against my bare skin enough to make my whole body shiver. He’s all sleek muscle, body chiseled from riding and fighting and it is not as if I hadn’t noticed--especially after last night--but I’d never been so aware of him before.

His breath is warm over the shell of my ear as he leans in to whisper, “Now we can play, Darling.”

Here?! Cauldron he’s really going to be the death of me! And rationally I know the more people see us together, the easier it will be for me to maneuver and get information, but it is very hard to think rationally when I can feel so many eyes watching my every move.

Rhysand brushes his nose over the juncture of my neck and shoulder, the soft waves of his dark hair a contrast to the harsh flash of teeth he brushes against my skin a moment later. My heart thunders in my chest, heat rushing to my cheeks. I’ve lost sight of Mor and Cassian, though I doubt they’d be stupid enough to interrupt, let alone save me.

Rhysand sucks a new mark into my neck as he trails a hand up my exposed thigh and the notion that I need to be saved leaves me. This is what I had hoped would happen last night--what I had tried so hard to pretend I didn’t want. The crowd starts to blur in my vision, the only people here are the two of us as he gets closer and closer to the apex of my thighs.  

He is the enemy. Yet, my head falls back on his shoulder as both his lips and his hands trail higher. Every move is warm and calculating and my body is so eager to surrender. I tell myself this is part of the plan, part of the game, but my body doesn’t care about any of that. It just wants more of him.

His hand stills at the pathetic excuse of a covering the skirt offers, thumb stroking against the inside of my thigh. My breath hitches in my throat.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he says softly in my ear. “I’ll make it up to you.”

I think I might actually be so pathetic that I’d beg for it, body squirming under his grip in search of more friction. I’ve never been more acutely aware of the ache between my legs. More so when I find myself grinding my hips down, unabashedly, against his thigh in front of all these people, the scrape of his leathers a heady friction that makes me bite down on my lower lip. 

He chuckles in my ear at my neediness, the sound so rich and deep it only further ignites the heat in my lower belly. If he is supposed to be the enemy, why is his whole body made for such pleasurable sin? There isn’t an inch of him that couldn’t be used to turn me on.

“It’s… it’s ok,” what even are words? “This was important.”

He hums as if thinking, fingers still stroking idle patterns into the tender flesh of my thigh. He’s so close to where I want him. 

“Thank you for being understanding,” he says softly. He sounds about as fragile as he had looked last night and that pang in my chest is back. “I can’t… I can’t risk it, not again, not with you. My mark will guarantee your protection, even if I am not physically here. You’re safe, and you’ll stay that way.”

I slowly raise my hand back, until I can thread my fingers through his hair and he leans his whole head into my touch. “No one’s ever really looked out for me before,” I whisper. Not a lie and not part of this game, but something that slips right out of me before I can trap it behind my teeth. 

“Never again,” he vows.

Perhaps if there wasn’t so much blood between us, I could believe him. 

I can’t take the words back, and I hate that we constantly end up more vulnerable than I thought we could be, I need to get this back on track. The less vulnerable I can keep things between us, the better. All I need to do is keep his focus on what we’d been doing. The more he’s thinking about my body, the less he’s looking at what I’m doing--and the less guilty I will feel. 

 I grind my hips back against him, trying to regain control of the situation, the obvious proof of his own arousal pressing into my ass. 

He hisses, even as he nips at the underside of my jaw. “Needy little thing, aren’t you?”

“You did say you’d make it up to me,” I tease in return, scraping my nails playfully along his scalp. 

“I did,” he muses. “Though I was thinking about doing it after we eat.”

“Liar,” I retort. 

His hand finally, blissfully, snakes higher, dipping beneath my skirts. “See, I was planning on making it up to you with my tongue-”

All thought eddies from my mind as his fingers stroke over my core, heat licking its way up my spine. I have to bite down on my lip to keep from making a sound.

“But if my hand is what you’d prefer, I’ll happily give it to you.” He slides a finger into the budding wetness between my legs, testing to see how much I can take. “That’s what you were thinking about last night, right?”

I freeze and he chuckles in my ear as he says, “It was rather distracting, having your side of the bond open, right as Azriel was going to work on our captives.”

He’d heard me?!

Shit shit shit! How much did he know?

“H-how did you…?” My hips buck instinctively as he curls a finger inside me, hitting a spot I didn’t know was so sensitive. 

“Think of the bond like a bridge,” he explains it so clinically, as if he isn’t currently adding a second finger inside me. “With a door on each end. Last night, you opened your door and let me walk right in.”

“How…” I roll my hips to match his pace, desperate for the friction, even as my eyes squeeze themselves shut from the embarrassment of this conversation. “How much did you hear?”

“Heard and saw,” he corrects, teeth scraping along the underside of my jaw. 

I wish the floor would open up and swallow me!

“Just the last bit, I think,” he continues, picking up his pace as my body clenches around his fingers. “When you called out for me. Want to tell me what you were imagining I was doing?”

Thank the Mother he hadn’t walked in when I was thinking about how much I hated him! I’d be dead otherwise, mark or not, and this wasn’t the position I wanted to be in if that was going to happen.

“This,” I whimper, turning my head to brush my lips along his throat. As long as he thinks it was nothing other than my general horniness, I’m safe, embarrassment aside. 

His fingers plunge deeper, wetness dripping down my thighs; I have to be leaving a mess on his pants at this point. “Hmmm, not very creative,” he tuts. “You could have had any part of me you wanted, and all you could think about was my hands?”

Considering the way my thighs start to shake, breath catching in my throat as he hits a spot inside me that has stars swimming across my vision, I’m pretty sure his hands are far beyond the limits of my imagination. No dream had ever felt this good. I intend to defend myself, or at the very least tease him in return, but the only thing that makes it past my lips is his name, soft and pleading as a prayer as my hips chase the motion of his fingers. My whole body is on fire. No part of my imagination would have ever been able to create this.

From somewhere inside the tent, music has started playing and some of those dancers I’d spotted on the way in start the entertainment portion of the afternoon, which I’m sure is a fantastic display, given the approving sounds of the crowd, but I can’t even pay attention to it. I’m barely aware that it’s there as I press my forehead into Rhysand’s shoulder and whimper, body tight as a bowstring.

“Just like that,” he whispers in my ear, chin dropping to rest on my shoulder so he can watch the way my hips rock against his hand. “Doing so well for me, Darling.”

“Please,” I beg. Gods I’m begging Rhysand. Did that even matter at this point? I’d already gotten on my knees for him, already taken his mark, what was a little begging in retrospect?

He places a tender kiss beneath my ear. “Beg a little more.”

Color heats my cheeks. “Please?” I tilt my face up enough to brush my lips over his warm skin again, my hips doing most of the work now as he slows his pace. I could honestly cry from the sudden lack of stimulation. 

“Little more.”

What could he possibly want me to say here?

Something flares in my chest as my brain spins, the same tugging feeling I’ve felt the last couple of days when I think about him. Is that the bridge he spoke of? Is that really him on the other side and not some bullshit? I mean, he did know what I’d done last night… So maybe this is real, maybe we really are…

It clicks and I drag my own teeth over his throat, leaving a little mark. This is how I keep up this ruse, right? “Please, mate.”

Shadows swirl up my thighs, caressing all the sensitive spots his hands are too occupied to touch. That little tether in my chest warms as he once again picks up the pace. His own hips rock forward, erection hot and heavy against my ass as he leaves another bite mark where my shoulder meets my neck. I’d said exactly what he’d wanted to hear.

“Good girl,” he praises, voice so low and husky it pushes me right over the edge.

Stars swirl across my vision, body going limp in his grasp as I finally hurtle over the edge. I’ve never cum so hard in my life! It’s only by biting down on my lower lip that I don’t let out a scream.

He holds me gently as I come down, shadows now stroking in soothing patterns over my skin as I catch my breath. 

“Fuck,” I whisper. 

He kisses my cheek as he removes his hand from between my legs. One of his shadows brings a cup of ale over for me to drink.  “Let’s get you some food, hm?”

It is still hard for me to wrap my head around that this male is the one that so easily slaughtered my people--the male that just took two heads off in the amphitheater. There is such a contrast to him it makes my head spin. It is even stranger to me that he is still very obviously aroused and not doing anything about it. He’s very content to let me just sit here in his lap after giving me the best orgasm of my life with nothing in return?

“What about you?” 

Rhysand places another kiss beneath my ear. “We have all day, Darling.”

That thing in my chest warms at the thought. At least there are some perks to seducing the enemy, right? 

------

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You all are angels for waiting this long for an update! <3 I'll try not to have as much down time in between posts.

If you also want to be added to the taglist, let me know! :)

[changenameno]

Ready, set…oh? PART 2

(Complete, link to the first part down below ⬇️ )

 Summary:
August didn’t date. He really didn’t, mostly because he wasn’t interested in dating and because of his job. Unfortunately he also couldn’t get you out of his mind. The way you had approached him, your pretty face, simply everything about you, intrigued him…


Pairing: August Walker & Fem. Reader

Warnings: a lot of awkwardness and nervousness, cursing, mostly fluff

Word count: 1.2K
 

A/N: Well since a few people asked for a continuation, here we go. Really hope you’ll like it. Any mistakes are my own. Reblogs and comments are much appreciated! Thank you and enjoy❤️✨


!Fallout: Mission Impossible and Agent August Walker are not my own creation!
 

 🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨


(In case you’ve missed PART 1)

 

PART 2

He was lying wide away in his bed, angrily staring at the ceiling.

Why? Why couldn’t he forget about you? What made you so special, that his mind kept replaying your encounter again and again? It had been two weeks. He should be over it by now.

 

 

It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen a beautiful woman before. But you, well you were something else. He could feel it, there was so much more about you than just your looks, and for some reason he really wanted to find out what lay hidden beneath the dazzling surface that was your beauty.

 

 

So here he was contemplating, overthinking, suffering, within the stifling four walls of his bedroom.

 

The little piece of paper with your phone number on it, laying on his bedside table. Mocking him.

 

 

He still hadn’t called you. Why? He didn’t know. August furrowed his brows, frustration clear on his face. He’d had enough, so he hit the mattress with his fist, as if that’d stop his musings. But at least he was sure now, what he needed to do in the morning. He was not going to lose even more sleep over this, over you.

 

 

 

🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨

 

You yawned, patting barefooted over the cold tiles of your kitchen, to turn on your coffeemaker. It was still early for a Saturday, but your cat, Mr. Fluff, wanted - no demanded - to be fed. He’d basically screamed at you, to get up, which you had given in to, after an hour of his scratching at your door combined with more meows.

 

 

Very satisfied with himself, he was now lazing on your couch, purring innocently, as if he hadn’t been the reason you’d been awake since six o’clock. You shook your head at him, smiling though, he was too adorable to stay mad at anyway.

 

 

The beeping of your coffeemaker sounded, as the hot beverage poured into your mug. You grabbed it, making your way over to Mr. Fluff, plonking down next to him on the couch. His bright green eyes blinked up at you, then he gracefully got up and snuggled into your lap.

You began petting him, stroking his white fur underneath his chin, the way he liked it, immediately rewarding you with intensified purring. You chuckled softly, murmuring to yourself, “Well you’re lucky you’re cute, you know?”

 

 

Suddenly your phone rang, making you flinch at the loud noise. Mr. Fluff scrambled to get away from the offending, rectangular thing laying to your right. You sighed, a bit disappointed that he’d left your lap, but curious as to who’d call you at this hour. Briefly glancing at the number on your screen, you noted that you didn’t know the caller, but you answered anyway.

 

 

Stating your name and then, “Yeah, hello?”

 

“Ah fucking shit… no…um…sorry…I…fuck.”

 

 

The person on the other end sounded very surprised, stumbling over their words, continuously swearing. Voice deep and growly. You didn’t quite know what was happening that justified the string of curses leaving them, but it amused you somewhat.

 

 

Disrupting the swearing with your burning question, “Erm, alright, sorry, but who is this?”

 

 

You could hear an intake of breath and then,” Oh yeah. Um… I’m August Walker. I…no, you…you gave me your number.”

 

 

He sounded very unsure, the last sentence more of a question than anything. And you had to admit, you still had no idea who he was. When had you given someone named, August Walker your number?

 

 

“I’m very sorry, but I don’t know anyone named August Walker?”

 

 

He huffed, more than a little annoyed with himself, for behaving the way he was. August had been awake the entire night to formulate the perfect plan. He wanted to call you really early, to purposefully miss you and be able to leave a message on your voicemail. This way he could structure his sentences without sounding like a robotic arse or a complete moron.

 

 

Unfortunately his plan had backfired the moment he’d heard your sweet voice, greeting him. You’d picked up the phone. August had not thought about the possibility of you being awake this early, so his response was one of pure panic.

 

 

What was he supposed to say? He felt like he’d forgotten any and every word and sentence, he’d so carefully prepared beforehand. Tongue sticking to the roof of his suddenly very dry mouth, making it even harder to formulate a normal sentence.

 

 

“Erm, hello? You still there?”

 

 

Damn it. He had waited too long to answer, making him look even more like a fool.

Trying to calm his erratically beating heart, he exhaled, then finally thought of something to say, “Yeah, sorry I’m still on. And yeah technically you don’t know me, at least not by name. But you gave me your number, about two weeks ago?”

 

 

Not able to contain your own excitement you blabbed, “Oh my god, it’s you, isn’t it? From the café?”

The second you’d uttered those words, you wanted to slap yourself. You sounded as eager as a little puppy. Well to be fair you were eager. But there was no need for the insanely hot guy on the other line, to know that. Before you could continue to chide yourself, his deep chuckle interrupted, making something inside you tingle pleasantly.

 

 

“Yes that’s me.” He was relieved you remembered him and he’d noticed how chipper you sounded, making him more confident all of sudden, adding flirtatiously, “Mmh, was afraid, you’d forgotten all about me for a second there.”

 

 

Your face burned, heat crawling up your neck, at his light teasing. Now that you knew who you were speaking to, it was you, who was having trouble stringing sentences together, “Um… yeah sorry about that. But I… I certainly remember you.”

 

 

He loved how shy and timid you suddenly sounded, very cute, “No need to apologise, darling.”

 

 

Swallowing thickly, you leaned your forehead against your tucked up knees, needing all the physical support you could get. Had he just called you darling? Oh. Oh no. Just that simple pet name had you buzzing happily.

 

 

Chirping back, “O-Okay. Well it’s nice that you’ve called, August.”

 

 

“Going somewhere?”

 

 

“What…um, no? Why?”

 

 

“Just checking. I know it’s a bit spontaneous,” and definitely not what he’d initially planed, but he really needed to see you, “but I was wondering, if you wanted to grab a bite to eat? Go somewhere for breakfast? Maybe in about an hour, in the café we’ve met?”

 

 

His heart drummed away in his chest, desperately awaiting your answer. The longer your silence stretched, the more he doubted his suggestion, wanting to take it back, as he didn’t want to come off, as too forward.

Though your sweetest of replies, saved him from his painful, tentative musings.

 

 

“I’d love to.”

🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨

Taglist:

If you're interested in being on my taglist, please let me know! And if you want to be taken off (my taglist), feel free to tell me!❤️✨

[alia-alia12]

By Chance

Part 3: A Name He Can't Forget

𖧹Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

𖧹Fluff, angst

𖧹1.3k

𖧹Masterlist

The afternoon sun streamed through the café’s large windows, casting golden light across the worn wooden tables. The familiar hum of quiet chatter filled the air, punctuated by the occasional hiss of the espresso machine.

Gojo sat alone in a corner booth, lazily stirring his rapidly cooling latte. His sunglasses rested on the table, forgotten, leaving his piercing blue eyes unfocused as he stared out the window.

It was a typical day—normal, quiet, routine.

But something about the stillness unsettled him, like the universe holding its breath before something important.

The soft chime of the bell above the café door drew his attention. His gaze snapped up just in time to see Shoko Ieiri saunter in, her hands shoved in the pockets of her worn leather jacket.

“Of course you’re here.” She smirked when she spotted him, making her way over.

Satoru sighed, resting his chin in his palm. “You here to ruin my peace or pay for my coffee?”

“Neither,” she shot back, sliding into the booth across from him. “I’m here with… news.”

His brow arched, curiosity piqued. “Oh? Do tell.”

Shoko paused, studying him carefully in that way only she could. “Y/N’s back in town.”

For a moment, the world tilted.

Satoru blinked, the words not quite registering at first. Y/N’s back. Y/N is back.

He straightened, his fingers tightening around his coffee cup. “What did you say?”

“Y/N,” Shoko repeated slowly, like she could see every thought racing through his head. “She’s back. I ran into her mom at the market the other day.”

He stared at her, breath caught in his throat. You were back.

“How long?” he managed to ask, voice strained.

“A week, maybe more?” Shoko shrugged. “She came back to settle her parents’ place. Staying for a while, from what I heard.”

A week.

You’d been back for a week.

His jaw tightened, his mind spinning with possibilities. Had you been avoiding him… or were you simply done with him?

He forced out a rough laugh, though it felt like something sharp lodged in his chest. “Guess she’s been… busy.”

Shoko frowned. “You didn’t know?”

“Nope.” He set his cup down harder than necessary, coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim. “She didn’t tell me.”

He hated how bitter the words tasted.

Shoko’s expression softened, though she didn’t press him like she usually would. “She’s probably just getting settled,” she offered carefully.

But Satoru knew better.

You’d been back for a week. Seven days. 168 hours. You hadn’t called… hadn’t reached out… hadn’t even thought to tell him.

God, that fucking hurt.

He swallowed hard, forcing a smirk onto his face like armor. “Well, good for her. Glad she’s… doing well.”

Shoko sighed, recognizing his deflection but choosing to let it go—for now.

“I thought you’d want to know,” she said quietly before standing. “Take care of yourself, Satoru.”

He nodded stiffly, watching her leave as the bell above the door chimed softly behind her.

The café felt impossibly quiet after she left, like the air had been sucked from the room.

You were back. After all these years… after everything that had happened.

And you hadn’t said a word.

That night, Satoru lay awake in his dark apartment, staring at the ceiling. His mind replayed Shoko’s words over and over again, carving them into his memory like a scar he couldn’t ignore.

He couldn’t help wondering—did you ever think about him… the way he thought about you?

Or had you already moved on… leaving him behind for good?

__________________

The scent of aged paper and polished wood greeted you the moment you stepped inside Second Story Books.

For a brief second, time seemed to fold in on itself. You were twelve again, balancing a stack of books in your arms while your mom scolded you for sneaking another novel off the shelves during your shift.

Then you were sixteen again and your dad was scolding you and Satoru for spending your entire shift laying on the old couch in the back of the store, instead of restocking the books like you were supposed to be doing.

Everything looked... exactly the same.

The same worn hardwood floors, the same towering oak shelves, the same soft light spilling from the antique lamps your parents refused to replace. Even the faint ticking of the old grandfather clock near the register still echoed softly in the quiet shop.

Home.

You swallowed hard, running your fingers over the counter’s familiar surface. Scratches from years of use marked the edges—battle scars of countless stories exchanged, memories pressed between book spines like forgotten flowers.

You let out a shaky breath. You could do this.

The next few hours passed in a quiet blur of dusting shelves, restocking displays, and sweeping away cobwebs. You worked with practiced ease, the routine etched into your bones after years spent helping your parents run the place.

But no matter how busy your hands were, your mind wouldn’t stop wandering—to him.

You could still see Satoru here—grinning like he owned the place, sprawled on the reading chair in the corner with a book he definitely wasn’t planning to buy. He always claimed he was “keeping you company” during your shifts, though he usually ended up distracting you with ridiculous stories or teasing remarks.

You were inseparable back then.

And then... you left.

You sighed, shaking off the memories as you adjusted the last display near the front window. Dwelling on the past wouldn’t change anything.

As if on cue, the bell above the door chimed softly, startling you. You turned, expecting to see a late customer wandering in.

But the doorway stood empty, only a soft breeze slipping through before the door clicked shut again.

You frowned, brushing the feeling off as nerves. The past is just a memory, you reminded yourself.

Still, you couldn’t shake the strange sense of being watched—like the shop itself remembered everything you were trying so hard to forget.

The shop was quiet when you finally locked up, the familiar weight of the keys resting in your palm. The streets outside were bathed in soft amber light from the old streetlamps, casting long, familiar shadows.

You lingered by the front steps, breathing in the cool evening air. The breeze carried the faint scent of rain—and something else. Something... familiar.

Your gaze drifted toward the corner café across the street—the same café you used to meet Satoru at after your shifts, back when you both lived in a world untouched by time or distance.

The light inside glowed warmly, and for a fleeting second, you thought you saw a familiar figure through the window—tall, broad-shouldered, white-haired.

Your breath caught, heart pounding.

But when you blinked, the window was empty.

Just a memory... you told yourself. Just the past playing tricks.

Still, as you walked home under the soft glow of the streetlamps, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted.

That maybe... someone had been watching after all.

[bio1]

Here a treat for Halloween, my complete fanfic in one post. Hope you enjoy this Earthspark horror themed story and thanks to @billy-jay-kisses-robots for co-writing and spell checking.

Let use begin

Act 1

Despite how close to midnight it was, the sound of footsteps could still be heard throughout the dugout. A combination of caffeine and late night movie watching was keeping Twitch Malto wide awake, while the rest of her terran siblings dozed off peacefully. In her defense, if Robbie didn’t want her drinking his energy drinks, he should have kept them hidden better. And the password to her father’s Netflix account should have been more secure than ‘bumblebee123’.

Though the entirety of the terrans had all stayed up to binge as many horror movies as they could think of (with the exception of Jawbreaker, who had his eyes closed the entire time out of fear), only Twitch was still awake. As she paced nervously up and down the dugout, she looked over her sleeping siblings one by one. Thrash was in his alt mode, somehow completely upside down. His engine was repeatedly reving up and stalling in a cycle, as if he was snoring. Jawbreaker was laying facedown on the floor, a comically small teddy bear perched carefully on top of his head. Hashtag, who had tried staying up later herself by watching youtube, had eventually fallen asleep as well, her phone autoplaying what sounded like Russian dashcam crash footage. And Nightshade… Hm, actually, she didn’t see Nightshade anywhere. Not that she was really paying attention, however. Her mind was too busy replaying everything she had seen earlier in the night over and over.

The kids had essentially gone to the horror section on Netflix and watched as many movies as they could before they got tired. From goofier horror comedies like "Critters" to things genuinely terrifying thrillers like "Halloween", and some striking and odd balance of the two like "Scream". What really got to her, however, was John Carpenter's "The Thing", and not just because of what happened to those poor sled dogs. That awful, morphing monster, the way it ripped the research team apart, really stuck with her. Possibly because it reminded her of a few of Mandroid’s own creations she had to fight before, especially that bear mutant from mother’s day.

She was so caught up in her own head that she didn’t even notice Fluffy Ears right in front of her. Twitch ended up tripping right over the family’s pet cow, who decided it would be a good idea to sleep in the middle of the dugout’s hallway. She managed to catch herself mid fall by switching into her alt mode just before hitting the ground. The sleepy calf roused her head, looked at the little red drone hovering directly in front of her, gave her a quick lick, and fell back asleep. The whole ordeal was quiet enough not to wake anyone else, but it did catch the attention of Nightshade, who poked their head out from around a corner near their lab.

“Oh, Twitch, I didn’t know you were still up.” They smiled. “Is everything alright? You look nervous.”

“How can you tell that if I’m in my alt mode?”

“Well, you’re shaking. Pretty violently.”

She hadn’t even realized that, but they were right. She even accidentally bumped into Fluffy Ears pretty hard. Startled, Twitch switched back into her normal mode and tried profusely apologizing to the calf. Fluffy Ears didn’t seem to mind, and got up from her spot to start aimlessly wandering around the dugout.

“I’m, uh, I’m fine, Nightshade. What are you doing over there, anyway?” Twitch attempted to change the subject, making her way over to Nightshade’s lab. At the very least, this might be a fun distraction. Nightshade’s bright green optics lit up at this, clearly excited to show someone their work.

"I am so glad you asked." They tugged on their sibling's arm and pulled them into their lab. On a table in the center was a large, ominous looking metal contraption.

"Wait, isn't that-" Twitch began, before getting cut off.

"The reverse beartrap from Saw, yes!" Nightshade beamed, proudly holding it up. "The movies we watched tonight weren't particularly the type I enjoy, but I did appreciate some of the creative inventions a few of them displayed." They looked over to see Twitch with a completely horrified expression on her face. "Oh, are you wondering if it works? I am too. This is just a prototype I whipped up based on how it was explained in the film. I was actually just about to test it-" They reached under the table and pulled out a full pumpkin. Nightshade extended their arms and eagerly gestured for Twitch to take the gourd. "Since you're up, would you like to do the honors?"

"... Actually, I was wondering why you built a torture device in the first place." She finally responded, nervously looking it over. "I mean, you've built some crazy stuff in the past, but this is, uh, kind of disturbing, Nightshade."

Nightshade looked somewhat disappointed at this, shaking their head a bit. "You've got the wrong idea! A torture device implies that the victim is meant to survive."

Nightshade set the trap down and activated it themselves. Within seconds, it ripped the pumpkin open, its guts splattering messily onto the floor.

"A person wouldn't have survived that." They added, clearly happy the machine worked as intended.

Twitch flinched and stood back, her eyes growing to the size of dinner plates.

"Twitch?" Nightshade asked, concerned. "What is-oh. I get it. Don't worry, it was never my intention to use this on any living being. I just like challenging myself, and building this seemed like it would be an interesting experiment." They began scooping the guts off the concrete floor. "The thought of this device ever being used for its original purpose… that's something I wouldn't even have wished for on Mandroid." They muse. Noticing their sister was still silent, Nightshade approached her, a worried look forming on their features.

"Are you sure you're alright? You didn't think I was really going to-" Twitch interrupted them.

"No! Oh, no, I know you wouldn't, Shady. I'm just kind of on edge tonight, I guess. Probably shouldn't have stolen Robbie's energy drinks." She attempted to brush off their concern as convincingly as she could.

"You probably shouldn't have! Caffeine can worsen the hyperactive aspects of ADHD after all." They agreed, patting her on the shoulder.

"...You think I have ADHD?"

Before Nightshade could respond, a massive crunch boomed out from above them.

"What was that!?" Twitch flew out in search of the cacophony. Nightshade, trying their best to keep up with her, tiptoed as softly as they could to prevent waking the others. They found Twitch looking through the camera screens in the main room of the dugout. There was nothing unusual on live feed, just a few autumn leaves blowing past the cameras Nightshade has placed around the ranch.

"Should we-" Nightshade began, getting cut off again.

"Check it out? Yes, obviously!" She seemed a little too excited to see what was out there. Perhaps she was just looking for an excuse to feel useful, or burn off some of her energy.

Without a second of hesitation, she switched to her alt mode and flew outside, wildly darting around the sky above the dugout. Twitch changed back into bot mode as she landed on the barn's roof. With the moonlight nearly hidden behind a thick layer of clouds, it was almost pitch black outside. Nightshade caught up with their energetic sister, surprised to see her standing still as a statue.

"Twitch! There is nothing out here but the nocturnal wildlife. Perhaps it was a raccoon who made that sound." Nightshade reasoned.

Twitch responded in a shaky tone. "Nightshade, what kind of raccoon could make a noise that loud?"

"...One with rabies?"

"Wait! Listen for a moment." She hushed, falling silent again.

Nightshade listened for something out there to satisfy their sister's paranoia. "I hear nothing Twitch."

"Exactly, Nightshade! There's nothing! No crickets chirping, none of the cows are making any sound, there aren't even moths near the lights!" She exclaimed frantically.

"Oh goodness, you're right. Now that is odd. The only time it's ever perfectly quiet outside is when there is something…dangerous around."

Nightshade glared in front of them, attempting to make out the source of the eerie calmness.

"That tree… wasn't there before." They noted, their voice shaky as they pointed ahead.

Twitch turned to see what her sibling was referring to. In the middle of the forest, several hundred meters away from the barn, a massively tall, crooked tree stood high above the rest. It only had three twisted branches, growing out of its spindly stalk in such a way to vaguely resemble a humanoid figure with bending limbs. One branch in the middle rounded out at the end to form the "head" of this horrific plant.

"Ok, so that certainly wasn't a raccoon then." Nightshade commented. Their sister began switching into her alt mode, before the younger green bot grabbed hold of her. "Twitch, wait! Going out to investigate… whatever that is right away probably isn't a good idea. We should at least think this through first."

Twitch struggled in their grip for a second before shaking herself off, but didn't immediately fly out like she wanted to. "What's the hold up? You seriously want to just head in and call it a night?" She snapped at them.

"No, of course not. I just think we shouldn't do it alone." They added, remaining calm.

"And give that tree-thing a chance to move in first? I don't think so." Twitch shifted and took off into the sky. Reluctantly, Nightshade changed into their alt mode as well, flying directly in front of her to block her path.

"Twitch! What's gotten into you?" They asked frantically. Thankfully for them, Twitch did stop in her tracks. "You clearly aren't doing well tonight. Whatever's got you troubled, I'm here for you, and so is the rest of the family."

"We obviously have bigger issues than my anxiety to deal with right now!" She shouted. "Things like… that are just more proof I haven't been doing enough to keep us safe."

"Is that what this is about? Twitch, this isn't your fault-" she cut them off.

"Well it'll be both of our faults if that tree monster gets its dirty roots on the others because we were busy screwing around here!"

Nightshade wasn't sure how to respond. Twitch’s panicked tone and expression made it clear how stressed and out of it she was. But how were they supposed to comfort her? This entire situation was making it hard for even them to think, especially with that giant tree staring at them-

Wait, the tree was staring at them?

Nightshade slowly turned their head to get a better look, and to their horror, the tall head of the ominous tree had sprouted a pair of huge, glowing eyes.

“We need to go back inside, now!” They grabbed Twitch's arm with their talons, dragging their sister behind them. Almost involuntarily, the younger mech let out an owlish screech as they dived back into the dugout from the entrance in the barn's roof.

Switching back into their alt mode, Nightshade rushed over to the console displaying the security cameras’ feeds. They displayed nothing but static, oddly enough. Nightshade, frustrated and confused, frantically tried fixing the console, but nothing seemed to be working.

After a few moments, Twitch quietly approached her sibling, meekly tapping them on the shoulder. “Shady, I need to tell you something…”

“I'm not mad at you, Twitch. Just, I need to focus right now-”

“That's not what an owl sounds like.” She continued.

Nightshade stopped what they were working on and turned to face her. “...I'm sorry?”

“I've been meaning to say this ever since you got your alt mode, but that owl screech you do isn't actually what owls sound like. The noise you make is more like an eagle or a hawk.”

Nightshade just sort of stared at her, not sure what to say.

“Oh.” Was all they could think of as a response.

“Wait, why would you bring that up now?”

“I'm sorry! I'm scared! I can't even really think straight, it feels like my brain is shutting down…” She grabbed onto her head and shook it, as if trying to forcefully wake herself up.

Nightshade tried to go back to fixing the camera system, but found that their own mind felt somewhat fuzzy as well. They've repaired similar errors on this exact console plenty of times before. Yet for some reason, the solution just wasn't coming to them now.

“It had eyes, didn't it? That's what those were, in the tree, I mean. Huge eyes.” Twitch finally spoke, her usually energetic voice noticeably slowed. “Do you think… that was something Ghost made?”

“I can't imagine what use they would have with a giant, monstrous tree.” Nightshade answered, putting down the wires they were fiddling with. “We should alert the others.”

“...Right.” their sister responded. She glided over to the nearest Malto sibling, that being Hashtag. The large purple bot was still peacefully dozing off with her phone now playing, of all things, Wendigoon’s conspiracy theory iceberg. As if this whole situation wasn't ominous enough.

Twitch gently nudged the larger Terran’s shoulder. “Hashtag? Get up, something happened.”

No response. She was completely out of it.

“H-hashtag?” Twitch shook her sister a little more forcefully now.

She still didn't stir.

“HASHTAG! WAKE UP!” Twitch yelled as loudly as possible, but this didn't do much besides startle the already well-awake Nightshade.

The smaller red bot, frustrated at this point, switched into her alt mode and fired a laser several inches from her sleeping sister. This also accomplished nothing.

“Twitch! What on earth are you doing?” Nightshade called out frantically.

“I wasn't going to hit her! I… I couldn't think of anything else, I thought that would work.” She admitted, her voice shaky.

Twitch flew over to Thrash and Jawbreaker, shouting their names and firing controlled lasers inches from their bodies in a reckless attempt to wake them. The brothers were similarly out cold, however, and nothing she did had any effect on them.

“You need to stop that! If you miss and hit them…” Nightshade began, stopping themselves off as they watched the red drone revert to her bot mode, a defeated and exhausted expression washing over her face. Her large yellow optics seemed to almost wobble in place, a streaking, cold light emanating from them. Nightshade got the impression that if Cybertronians were physically capable of shedding tears, she'd be sobbing right now.

“What's going on, Shady?” She barely managed to speak, nearly choking on every word.

Seeing their usually cheerful, energic sister in such a miserable state was utterly heartbreaking for Nightshade. It wasn't her fault, but Twitch seemed to truly believe whatever misfortune her family had fallen upon somehow could have been prevented by her.

Nightshade, not being the best at emotional support, tried to go for a more practical way of comforting her. “They… they aren't dead.” The younger Terran informed her. Walking over to Jawbreaker, Nightshade gently pried his eyelids apart to reveal intact, glowing optics. They weren't responding to any stimuli, but the fact that they were on was proof that the bots were in some kind of comatose state.

“How did you…” Twitch started speaking, but seemingly lost the strength to continue partway through her question.

“How did I know?” Nightshade presumptively finished for her. “I've installed vital trackers in all of us. If any of us were to go offline, I would get an alert.” They informed her.

“Oh, that's good. Thank you.” She seemed a little relieved, before realizing the full consequences of what her sibling just admitted. “Wait, I don't remember… when did you install those?”

“That's not really something we need to worry about now…” Nightshade mumbled, not expecting her to question their actions.

“...Nightshade, how many… things have you added to us?” She lowered her gaze a bit, inquisitively. Before questioning them further, her optics lit up, having remembered something.

“I just realized, we never saw Fluffy Ears!” She blurted out frantically. Twitch began zooming around the dugout in her alt mode, looking for the baby cow.

Nightshade gave a sigh of relief that her line of questioning was over for now, and joined her in the search.

“Where was she last?” They called out, looking around their lab while Twitch scanned the dugout’s hall.

“I… I don't know, she just sort of wandered off-Oh!” Twitch flew over to a far corner of the room.

“I found her! What are you doing over here, silly cow…” Twitch nudged the calf, who seemed to be fast asleep, resting her head on her flank. Fluffy Ears didn't stir, however.

“...Fluffy Ears?” Twitch was significantly more worried as she spoke this time, her voice getting louder. The calf didn't respond.

Nightshade looked over their sister's shoulders, noting that, thankfully, the little cow was still breathing.

“That's odd, very odd… whatever happened to our siblings seems to be affecting her as well.” Nightshade leaned down and gently stroked Fluffy Ears head, mostly in an attempt to steady themselves down. This entire situation wasn't making any sense, and that scared them. They needed to remain calm, however, if only to reassure Twitch.

The smaller bot looked to her sibling for answers.

“...Do you think it's gotten to everyone in the house?”

“Are you referring to whatever has put everyone here to sleep?” Nightshade attempted to clarify.

“Yeah, I mean, if it got to Fluffy Ears… Mom, Dad, Robbie, and Mo are also organic.”

“That's a good point, actually.” Nightshade pondered. They didn't even think of that. “Are we dealing with some kind of virus that affects both organics and bots? Does such a thing even exist?”

“Forget virus, it's obviously coming from that messed up tree outside.”

“The tree? That can't be right. How could it even…” Nightshade was at a complete loss.

“Seriously, Nightshade? This thing shows up, and suddenly, all of our family is out cold. That can't be a coincidence.” She was exasperated.

“I agree it's strange, but there shouldn't be any way a plant could incapacitate both organics and Cybertronians by just… I don't even know…” Their head was starting to throb, like a migraine. Trying to think critically was physically hurting them.

The two siblings just stood there, feeling their own bodies growing weaker with every passing second. It was a sensation similar to being sedated. A feeling they probably would have given into, had Twitch not noticed a strange black tendril poking out of a nearby vent.

“Is that a rat?” Twitch asked groggily. Wouldn't be the first time a rat got into the dugout. But said rats usually weren't so long. And slithering…

“Nightshade! Get down!” Twitch jumped and pushed her sibling down to the ground, just before a huge tendril swung at their head. The tendril instead hit the monitors Nightshade had attempted to fix. A single whack caused not only all the monitors to shatter, but the concrete wall behind them to violently crack.

Nightshade's optics widened with horror. There was no question about it. If that tendril had hit them instead, their head would have been knocked clean off.

The tendril dove for the pair of them, seeming to know exactly where they were despite not having eyes. They both moved to opposite sides, barely avoiding getting stabbed. As it pulled out of the small hole it burrowed into the floor, the tendril opened up for a second, briefly revealing a crimson reptilian eye that scanned the room before closing again.

Nightshade, in an effort to get out of the way, bumped into the table they had placed the reverse bear trap onto earlier. It fell into their lap with a clattering thud. An idea came to them, and they armed the trap to go off again.

“Twitch, take this and have it dive for you again! When it gets close, have it aim for the trap! I think it only keeps its eyes open for a few seconds at a time!”

“Twitch, take this and have it dive for you again! When it gets close, have it aim for the trap! I think it only keeps its eyes open for a few seconds at a time!”

Twitch, being the faster of the two even in her groggy state, agreed with a nod and flew past the tendril, the trap in her grasp. It took the bait and launched itself directly towards her, where it got the last several feet of its body caught in the trap’s mechanisms.

The tendril squirmed and rattled as the reverse beartrap’s countdown ticked. After a few agonizingly long seconds, it finally went off. Just as it had with the pumpkin earlier in the night, it absolutely ripped its prey apart with ease. Shards of metal and some kind of fleshy material flew to all corners of the dugout.

The worst part wasn't the sight of the impact, however, it was the dreadful noise it made. Whatever the tendril was attached to screamed in pain as its appendage was destroyed. It had a cry like a nuclear siren, low, loud, and ear-piercing. It felt like something you were never meant to hear, and simply perceiving was a sign that you as the listener were at death’s door.

What remained of the tendril receded back through the vents, leaking a runny black liquid with an odd, iridescent shimmer. A few of the larger chunks that had been ripped open were still slightly animate, curling where they lay like a dying spider.

Nightshade cautiously approached what appeared to be the eye of the tendril, or atleast what was left of it.

It was a translucent, jelly-like red substance with an awful black slit for a pupil that had sort of melted into the iris due to its injury. Said pupil shuddered in place one last time as Nightshade got closer, almost as if it could still perceive the bot somehow.

“Nightshade! Are you alright right!?” Twitch said, sounding out of breath despite not actually having lungs.

“Yes, I'm just a bit scratched up. It's nothing but a bit of polish won't get out.”

Without saying anything else, Nightshade grabbed and chugged down one of the energy drinks that their sister left out. “I know I said earlier that us drinking these was probably a bad idea, but I think they might help.” Their sister nervously fiddled with the can’s lid before managing to get it open for herself.

Nightshade scooped up what's left of the otherworldly tendril and brought it back to their lab.

Pausing to consider their next move, Nightshade eventually settled on attaching the still pulsating fleshy bits to a battery hooked up to a light bulb. After a few seconds, the light dimmed before going out completely. The battery was instantly dead.

“It appears you were right after all. Whatever this thing is, it emits some kind of field that drains energy from anything it's near.” Nightshade concluded.

“So that's what makes us feel so exhausted?” Twitch looked very concerned, her optics darting between Nightshade and her unconscious siblings.

“More than likely, yes. And you might have already guessed this, but I assume it's also keeping all our organic family members asleep. My current theory is that this is a hunting tactic.”

Twitch knew immediately what they were getting at. “Sleeping prey can't fight back.”

“Exactly.” Nightshade confirmed. “The fact that we were previously awake is most likely the only reason why we aren't currently unconscious.”

An uneasy silence filled the dugout. The siblings stood in place, the air around them cold and heavy with tension. Without saying a word, both of them knew what the other was thinking: that monster would be back any moment, and they couldn't keep up the energy to fight it back for long. It was a terrible calm before the storm, a feeling reminiscent of succumbing to hypothermia. An overwhelming, intoxicating urge to close your eyes and drift into a sleep you were well aware you'd never wake up from.

And at this moment, every light in the dugout switched off.

Act 2

The Terran siblings' optics were the only source of light in the now otherwise pitch black dugout. After the dreadful clicking of the lights switching off, the room was now eerily quiet once again.

“We didn't kill it.” Nightshade finally broke the silence, stating the obvious.

“No, you didn't.”

A voice replied, taunting the young bot. Well, perhaps calling it a voice would be too generous. Whatever responded spoke in a manner similar to rusted nails scratching at granite. Its pitch and tone managed to fluctuate in a manner that just barely could be recognizable as words. It was a sound that shouldn't be possible, as if scrap metal could somehow speak. It went beyond uncanny. Hearing something that otherworldly felt downright violating.

“What clever children you are, deducing my traits so quickly.

Most don't last long enough to find that out.”

Whatever monitors still remained attached flickered on, although they broadcasted nothing but static. When their adversary spoke again, the static shifted in time with its voice.

“My, such a colorful collection. So bright and shiny, sturdy with youthful vigor. Small you might be, but your remains will a part of something far bigger than you could ever dream.”

Twitch, with all her remaining energy, was not having any of this cryptic nonsense. She stormed up to the monitors and put her face meter inches from the screen in a confrontational manner.

“Get away from my family, NOW!” She boomed, slamming her foot onto the concrete floor.

The dying power on the monitor only showed one thing, the white enormous eye of their torturer.

“Oh my child, it's far too late for that.”

Twitch stepped back, trying her absolute best now to show how terrified she truly was. Too late for what? What was this thing implying?

“You're bluffing! You haven't gotten to them yet!” Nightshade answered back for her. “Now how about you save us all time and tell us what you want!”

Twitch wasn't sure what her sibling was getting at. Did they want to give into this thing's demands? And how could they know that their family hadn't been harmed yet?

“If you're already awake, I thought we might as well have a little fun.”

It was pretty obvious the creature was trying to be creepy, but neither of them knew whether or not it fully understood the context of what it just implied.

The dugout was completely silent and nearly pitch black, the abyss around them only just illuminated from both of the bots’ glowing optics.

“Nightshade! What do we do?! Our family is out there with that… that thing! I don't even know which way the exit is anymore, it's too dark…”

“There’s no reason for alarm, the dugout has a backup generator in the barn.” Nightshade tried their absolute best to remain calm for her, despite the gravity of the situation weighing on their mind as well.

“I'll go check on everyone in the house. In the meanwhile, you can start up the generator.”

“Wait, shouldn't that be the other way around? I can actually fit in the house, and you would know how the generator works.”

“Because I can grab everyone in one trip. It would take too long for you to back and forth. Plus, turning it on is rather simple.”

“Nightshade, I've seen the things you make, and none of them are simple.”

“It's literally just a red button labeled ‘generator’.”

“Nevermind, I should be able to handle that.”

Both of the bots carefully exited the dugout. With neither spotting the monster, Nightshade and Twitch split up, their goals both in sight.

Twitch approached the generator, optics darting around herself in paranoia.

“It's okay, Twitch. Just a few more steps.” The red bot assured herself, voice still shaky.

She stood in front of the machine, just barely out of arms’ reach. A chill ran down her metallic spine. Thoughts of what occurred earlier in the night ran through her mind. She kept imagining that if she pushed the button, something would come to remove her head from her shoulders.

“Twitch! HURRY!”

The loud voice booming from the doorway startled the poor bot. It was Nightshade, already back with their human family in tow. They were peacefully sleeping, blissfully unaware of the danger around them. Nightshade dashed into the bunker, leaving Twitch to finish her task.

With a deep sigh, she pushed the red button, the lights around her flickering on. Twitch turned back to join their sibling before stopping dead in her tracks. Something was pushing itself through a gap in the barn wall. A black, pulsating mass with gray armor grew larger as more of its amorphous form forced its way into the room. Five huge tendrils sprouted from a central metal lump. It almost looked like…

“A hand.” She breathed, the terrifying realization overcoming her.

A monsterous hand, almost bigger than her entire body.

She drew out her swords as the hand flexed its grotesque fingers.

The monster, noticing her presence, immediately lunged at her. She barely had enough time to dodge or before the gnarled fingers could ensnare her. The hand instead grabbed hold of a solid wooden support beam directly behind her. Smaller tendrils unwind themselves from the fingers joints, constricting the beam completely until the pressure caused it to cave in. An entire, solid cylinder of wood, crushed by a single movement into dust. The hand, realizing it has missed it's intended target, reared around with gelatinous eyes protruding from its finger joints, searching for Twitch.

“Hold still.”

“How about no!” She yelled before jabbing her blade into its wrist. The palm of the hand writhed in pain, fingers bending backwards as it struggled to pull the foreign object out. The wrist was almost jammed like a metal rod between two gears.

Twitch grabbed the handle of the embedded sword and twisted it clockwise, separating the hand from its wrist. A spray of oily fluid landed on her optics, muddling her vision. The hand writhed in pain for a moment, finally curling up on itself.

A distant sound of pain could be heard, but Twitch felt like she had no time to celebrate as she went to join her family. The young bot slammed the vault door shut as soon as she made it to the bunker, not wanting to take any more chances. Nightshade has laid the siblings’ organic family into individual sleeping quarters.

“Twitch, are you alright?” Nightshade asked, concerned. Their sibling’s face was drenched in the black, oily blood of their adversary.

“Yeah, I just had my hands full.” she responded confidently. Though her words had the cadence of a joke, Nightshade didn't seem to pick up on it.

“Seriously, what happened?” They prodded further.

“That monster tried to crush me. Sort of like this.” Twitch crushed one of the emptied energy drink cans as a demonstration.

“But it doesn't know who they're messing with, and I manage to cut their hand off.” She smiled proudly, but residual unease from the near death encounter still hung to her tone. This bravado was an attempt to force her mood to improve, and it wasn't entirely working.

“Here, to wipe the oil off.” Nightshade handed her a large cloth.

“Oh, thanks.” She cleaned her face up, before looking down at the now dirtied rag. “Wait, isn't this Robbie's shirt?”

“Yes. I borrowed some spare clothing from all of the family and store it here, in case of emergencies.”

“Borrowed? He told me he couldn't find this shirt for months….” She held out the soaked t-shirt in front of her, rancid oily blood dripping onto the floor.

“Emergency preparedness is more important than a diverse wardrobe.” Nightshade took the soiled garment and threw it into a basket. “That'll come off in the laundry. Probably.”

In the corner of Nightshade’s sensitive optics, they picked up some movement on the now activated surviving monitor. The pair raced over to see what it was. Out of the darkness of the forest above, something jumped into fame. The figure startled Nightshade badly enough that they fell to the floor. After recovering from the near spark attack herself, Twitch realized what it was.

“Oh, it's just a deer.” She gave a sigh of relief.

Nightshade got a good giggle from the pair of them getting so startled by a cute little buck. Twitch had mentioned she cut off the monster's hand, right? Surely, it wasn't coming back…

Gazing at the screen, something reached out and snatched the poor animal. Their monitor’s audio played a sickening crack the moment after. It was the unmistakable noise of snapping bone.

The culprit emerged from the woods, towering above even the tallest of trees. In one gnarled hand, it carried the limp body of the deer, whose neck was now bent at an unnatural angle, clearly dead.

The other hand was missing, leaving a stub of black tentrals.

It was clear this wasn't some kind of wooden monster they had thought of earlier. This was far more alien.

This monster appeared to be wearing the outer armor of a Cybertronian, held together by mangled tendrils and rusted metal sheets. Its abdomen, neck, and joints were made of thick, wiry tentacles twisted together like ropes of licorice. Long, clawed fingers clutched onto the ragdolled deer. Its face, seemingly normal at first glance, appeared to have enormous spotlights for optics, surrounded by deep black rings. It was as if it had carved holes in whatever unfortunate mech’s face it was using to fit its massive eyes.

The abomination was mostly gray, with any remaining colors on its shell muted and drained. It reminded Nightshade when they learned from Bumblebee. When a Cybertronian dies as a result of having their spark extinguished, their body will lose its color. All that's left behind is a gray, empty shell.

The monster lifted the deer so that it was held directly in front of its ghastly face. Instead of simply opening its mouth, it split its own jaw completely in half. Row upon row of sharp yellowed greeted their prey, before sinking into the buck’s head. It antlers sloughed off and fell to the forest floor. The poor deer's head barely gave any resistance to the creature’s bite, getting chomped away easily as a stalk of celery.

Twitch immediately felt sick, the urge to vomit filling her despite not even having a stomach.

Nightshade starred, wide-eyed with morbid curiosity, unawall to tear away their gaze.

With one of its clawed fingers, it easily gutted and flayed the remainder of the deer with the precision of a surgeon. It swallowed each limb whole, not even stopping to back a breather between each bite. The deer's torso was impaled on the tallest tree around, seemingly leaving it for later.

Full enough for now, the metallic corpse leaned over, resting its damaged arm on the forest floor. Slowly but surely, the severed tendrils twisted and grew, sprouting forward from the site of the injury. Soon enough, it had a brand new hand, identical to the original.

All of the damage the siblings had inflicted on the creature was undone in a moment.

“This isn't happening…” Twitch’s voice was barely a whisper, her entire body fighting back the urge to retch.

“A Valiant attempt, little one, But not good enough.”

The creature's unnatural voice made the static on the monitor worse as it spoke. How it had heard her from so far away was a complete mystery.

The thing bent forward to show its back, smaller tendrils poking out of the monster's armor. They wriggled and writhed, pulling themselves from the beast's back. Falling out from the cracks in the metal, two smaller creatures collided on the ground before standing up. They superficially resembled Cybertronian protoforms, but were differentiated by the claws and soulless eyes of the original monster.

“Go get me the green one. The red one is yours… consider it a treat.”

It pointed towards the camera at the base of the tree. The pawn-like monsters listened, immediately making their way towards the barn.

“I'll be seeing you shortly, Maltos.”

It bowed at the camera, before walking backwards out of site, into the woods.

“We are sooooo screwed.” Twitch mumbled, once the whole ordeal had concluded. “How did it find that tiny little camera? And when did it learn our family's name?”

“Don't worry, we, um…” Nightshade’s usually calm demeanor was shaking, the panic getting to them as well. … ‘“We should be safe here.” They placed a hand on her shoulder reassuringly, metal clicking as they touched. Twitch immediately swatted their hand away, turning in place to face them.

“Safe?” Her optics went wide, sparking with a furocity Nightshade had only seen a few times before. “Safe?! You just saw that thing make more of itself, Nightshade! We are anything BUT safe right now!”

They knew she was right, and that their reassurance was an empty gesture she had easily seen through.

“I’m sick of this.”

She drew out both of her swords.

Nightshade looked visibly shaken from Twitch's outburst, justified as it might be. If they could cry, they would be tearing up.

“Twitch, I-”

Twitch cut them off again.

“I'm going out there to defend what I love!”

Even though Twitch was running off fumes, she would fight an army if it meant keeping their family safe.

Nightshade rubs their optics before putting a hand on her shoulder once again.

“Not by yourself. I'm coming with you.” Nightshade informed her with an uncharacteristically stirred tone.

“You need to stay here, with them.” She pleaded. “I've got more training than you. I can handle this.”

“With all due respect, there isn't a chance you'd survive going head to head alone with our advisory here. I doubt even Optimus could take that monster down by himself. I get why you want to me stay back, but we won't be of any use without each other.” They leaned in, giving Twitch a big bear hug.

“We're doing this together,” said Nightshade.

After a moment of hesitation, Twitch nodded firmly.

“Together.” she replied, hugging them back.

They made sure everything was secured before drinking what was left of the energy drinks in hopes of staving off the creature's parasitic exhaustion. Venturing out of the dugout, they double checked to guarantee the door was locked behind them.

The bots stuck close by to one another, Twitch leading slightly ahead. Just as Nightshade got an arm's length away from their sister, something jumped on their shoulders and wrapped its arms around their neck.

It was one of the odd gray things the creature had produced. The thing was about Twitch’s size, only barely taller than the average human. Nightshade was able to pull their assailant off them, slamming it against the dirt.

Cracks formed on the monster's armor, its left leg was bent in the opposite direction.

This seemingly didn't slow it down, however, as with a high pitch grunt it snapped its leg back in place before charging at the green mech.

“NIGHTSHADE! Go high, I'm going low!” Twitch changed her hand into a blaster before taking aim and firing. The laser shot hit the monster's bad leg, blasting it off from the knee down.

As the creature stumbled, Nightshade’s talons struck against its face. This almost completely destroyed one of its eyes, leaving a deep gash. They knock it back with a powerful upcut to its jaw, sending half of its pointy teeth into the air.

As it fell backwards, Twitch raised one of her blades. She sent an aggressive slash on its shoulder. The sword moves in a round arc, cutting its torso in two like a knife through warm butter.

Both halves of the body fell down. Horrifically, even though all the monstrosity had left was a single arm, it continued to drag itself towards them. The thing seems either unaware or unbothered by the fact that its insides were being scrapped across the ground as it moved.

Nightshade backed up a good distance from their pursuer before running back at it, full sprint. With one solid kick, they sent its head flying over the house.

“Goal!” Nightshade cheered, twisting around to check on Twitch. Their little joke seemed to have worked at lightening some of the tension, and she smiled back at him widely. “That was incredible, Nightshade!”

As the small monster's corpse finally fell still, the siblings celebrated by high-fiving each other.

Their victory was short-lived, however, as an enormous hand rapidly grabbed Twitch from around the house. Nightshade ran after it, coming to stand in front of the Goliath.

“Let me go!” Twitch demanded, taking a shot at the thing’s chest, leaving nothing but a small burn mark. It retaliated by squeezing her tighter. With its other hand, it picked up her swords before tossing them away into the woods.

“You! After all this… chaos! What more do you want?” Nightshade yelled as loud as their vocal processor would allow.

The creature flexed its long neck towards the ground, gargantuan eyes boring holes into Nightshade's very being.

“It appears your human masters didn't raise you with any manners, child. But for future reference, it's not considered polite to ask such questions before being given a proper introduction.”

It gave a devilish, cocky smirk. The sickeningly smug expression of a creature who knew it had already won. It was just toying with its prey now, watching them squirm and suffer for its own amusement.

“You may call me Exquisite Corpse. I've seen how smart you are, I assume you can guess how I earned such a title.”

Nightshade wasn't even sure how to respond. This thing's manner of speech was infuriatingly civilized, clearly in an attempt to further provoke them.

“As for your question, I am after you in particular, little owl.”

“Me?!” They blurted in response. “And what makes you think I'm going to go along with this?” Nightshade challenged, trying not to let their confusion and fear show.

The haughty grin on Exquisite Corpse’s face never faltered.

“Oh, I suspected resistance from you, child. There's a good reason I made my powers known to you from the start.”

It leaned in even closer, its massive face just inches from Nightshade. Bits of blood and refuge from the deer it had previously consumed clung to its metal fangs.

“You know what I'm capable of. You know what I could do to not only her,”

It shook Twitch around in its hand, causing the red bot to yelp in shock and discomfort.

“But to your entire clan if I wanted. So now that you're aware of what's at stake, I don't think you'll put up any more struggle when I tell you to come with me.”

“Don't even think about it, Nightshade!” Twitch barked.

“I didn't say you could talk, fly!”

It screeched, pressing its claws against her even further. Twitch's body creaked as she tried not to scream from the pain. It was clear that if Exquisite Corpse's grip got any tighter, those claws would rip right through her.

“Stop!” Nightshade begged. “Please, just put her down…”

“Oh, I'll do a lot more than that. Do as I say, and your entire family will get left out of this unfortunate little affair.”

It leaned its empty hand in front of the bot.

“How does that sound, owl?”

The lights in Nightshade's optics streaked, making their vision go blurry. Tensing up, they reluctantly grabbed a finger of the giant hand back, shaking it.

“I accept your terms.” they solemnly said, biting their lip in anguish.

“I knew you were smart. Very good.”

It tossed Twitch to the ground, the minion pawns standing behind her with baited breath, held back only by their obedience to their master like a dog on a leash.

Exquisite Corpse gently picked up the owl, exhaling a deep purplish smoke in their face. Nightshade immediately felt more tired than they ever had in their life. As their body went limp for exhaustion, they heard one final exchange from the monster to its servants.

“She's all yours.”

As they walked off towards the woods, the last thing Nightshade could process was Twitch's voice, violently screaming out for their sibling to help her.

Act 3

The cold, metallic clicking of leaking rainwater rose Nightshade from their unconsciousness. They managed to pry their optics open, the young bot's vision blurred from exhaustion and their injuries. Nightshade silently prayed to whatever might be listening that all this had just been some sort of horror movie induced nightmare. That when they got up, they’d find themselves awake in the cozy dugout, surrounded by their siblings. That they could go on and have another fun, peaceful day with those they loved.

But they were met with no such luck. They were lying on an unfamiliar rusted floor, faint light leaking in from a hole above them. Scattered drops of fresh rain pattered down, keeping the air around them cool. It was a sound they usually quite enjoyed, under happier circumstances. With no idea where they were, however, it only brought them a further sense of alienation.

As they tried to gather their thoughts, a voice they had gotten to know far too well over the past few hours made itself heard.

“Rise and shine~”

The voice called from a pitch black doorway, only the speaker's white eyes indicating someone was there. Nightshade tried to change forms, but residual weakness kept them barely able to move. Honestly, they were surprised still able to move at all, being so drained of-

“Energy” it said.

“You need it to survive like all things do. It will not be good if you're too weak to stand.”

Its eyes narrowed to pin pricks of light.

“Lucky for us, it seems like your kind is able to process organics. Looks like we have something in common.” A wheezy laugh escaped the beast’s mouth.

“Unlike your inferior kin.”

It tossed a plastic-wrapped packet into Nightshade's cell.

“Is this Jerky?” they mumbled, looking over the bag with bleary optics.

“Better than rats, I suppose. Or do your animalistic instincts crave raw vermin?” It tilts its head.

“How would you know my body can process organic material?” Nightshade questioned, weakly.

“You and your sister seem to process those caffeinated liquids just fine. Besides, I can't see it being possible for a techno-organic species to survive solely off of polluted water.” It leaned its metallic face closer, its nightmarish grin now barely visible in the pale light. “You mean to tell me that in the year or so you’ve existed, you never bothered trying any food?” Its smile somehow grew wider.

Nightshade cut the side of the packet, pulling out one strip of dry meat. They placed it in their mouth and chewed a bit. It was pretty good, surprisingly. Under different circumstances, they'd be excited to try out other human foods. After swallowing it, they still felt off, like there was a hollow feeling in them that the small piece of nourishment slightly filled.

The beast spoke once more.

“I will return when you recover your strength. Until then, stay here.” It taunted, knowing damn well they weren't going anywhere.

It shut the thick metal door behind it with a cold clank. Alone and in the dark again, the green bot pulled out another piece of jerky.

“I hope Twitch is ok.”

---

Sharp claws rendered the air next to Twitch, the red bot barely managing to dodge the swipe by a hair. She reared in for a punch to its face, but was instead met with a monstrous knee to the abdomen. She failed to stop her battered fame from involuntarily folding up like a lawn chair from the pain. Orange, shaky optics stared down the approaching behemoth as it made its way to the barnside.

Twitch managed to activate the fans on her circular wings, blowing the monster back as it lunged directly towards her. The thing yelped as it was knocked backwards, but didn't remain stunned for long.

With her processor still hazy and her movements sluggish, Twitch knew this wouldn't be an even fight. She'd need to end it quickly, because there was no way her stamina would keep up for long.

As the husk made its way towards her once again, Twitch used what little remaining energy she had to back herself up into the garage. She frantically slammed her fist down on the button used to close the garage's metal door, hoping it would buy her a little more time. As the husk lunged at her again, she raised her arm, with just enough space between them to take a clear shot.

In less than a second, her laser blew a hole directly into the monster's head, sending it flying backwards. The garage door slammed shut right as its body was about half way through the exit, moving quickly enough to bisect the creature horizontally. The thing’s lower half laid on the garage floor, legs violently jerking one last time before going still.

After a moment's hesitation, she carefully moved to get a better look at the split torso. Oily black ooze and wiry threads leaked from the opened wound. Inside were tightly wrapped threads, somewhat resembling muscles, clinging tightly to shiny silver bones. The red bot hesitantly nudged the tattered mass with her foot. Satisfied when it didn't move, she let out a sigh of relief.

She decided to inspect the garage doors, wondering how they had closed so fast. It appeared that Nightshade had added some sort of speed adjuster, currently set onto “Turbo”.

“Nightshade’s going to get one of us killed these days, if they keep messing with electronics like this.” She mumbled. “Oh no, Nightshade!” Twitch's mind was flooded with thoughts of the monstrosity dragging away her sibling. Panic surged through her circuits, making her trace the room in circles, cradling her head in her hands. If she could barely take one of its minions, she wouldn't stand a chance against the creature alone. That's when her optics landed on a car battery and jumper cables.

“What would Nightshade do…” Twitch pondered aloud, gazing over the batteries with inquisitive optics.

_ _ _

Nightshade had just barely regained the strength to stand when their host decided to return.

“Please, follow me, honored guest.” It gestured, holding a slender hand behind itself. Not seeing any other viable options, Nightshade did as they were told.

As the young bot trailed behind their captor, it became apparent to them that they didn't even reach past the monster's knee in height. Wherever they were, the quiet halls of this place were clearly designed to be occupied by beings of immense stature.

Nightshade decided now would be as good a time as any to ask the burning question on their processor. “Are you going to kill me?”

“Blissfully foolish little thing. If I planned to kill you, why would I have kept you alive this long?” Seemingly just to taunt Nightshade, it dragged its claws against the stone walls, leaving shallow marks and a grating noise as they continued.

“I don't know. You could have plenty of reasons. That's why I asked.”

The monster looked back at Nightshade incredulously, only to be met with a sincere expression from the green bot. It was genuinely a little surprised at how curious their captive was. If anything, they seemed just as interested in the logistics of this operation as they did their own fate.

“I want you to join me… Nightshade.” The thing’s smile grew to enormous proportions, only to fade as they realized Nightshade gave no visible reaction to having their name used.

“Aren't you curious how I knew your name?” It tried to sound intimidating, but the bot just continued to stare at them with a wide eyed, yet steady expression.

“I just assumed you overheard my sister referring to me as such.” They answered. “Is that not the case?”

“Uh, no, I… Nevermind.” It seemed embarrassed of all things, not getting to use its usual mindgames. “Scrap, I lost my train of thought. Where was I?”

“You mentioned you wanted me to join you in something?”

“Oh, right, thanks.” It coughed awkwardly. “Ahem. Anyway, my kind has a unique way to produce more of our species. It all starts with a small injection.”

Its tongue formed into a sharp, needle-like point. Nightshade's optics went wide, nervously taking a step back.

“Your body will undergo a beautiful transformation. You'll be stretched, strained, melted. Your insides will dissolve and reform into divine fibrous threads, while keeping your outer casing mostly in tack.” Having regained its sinister mojo, it leaned in menacingly.

“And most importantly, you will be able to spread your variation of life to all that you see. Your unique biology, I believe it's called your alt mode… it's the perfect blend of organic and inorganic material.”

It gestures to the room in front of them.

Inside, dozens of stasis pods filled with an odd silver liquid Thing against the walls, each with a glowing ball of light in their chests.

Nightshade peered in, before being struck with dreadful recognition. “No, those aren't-”

“Oh, but they are! Protoforms, just for us. You can think of them as our new family.” It laughed, a sound like metal scraping against itself.

“Your techoraganic DNA will make them perfect hybrids between you and I.”

“And why was I chosen for this?” Again, Nightshade’s tone, while clearly uncomfortable, also was bizarrely curious given the circumstances.

The monster scratched at its eye socket, as if it was getting bored.

“Your alt mode, little owl. Strong, swift, and capable of flight. None of your kin can compare in potential.”

“And why can't you just make your army on your own?”

Their bright-eyed, inquisitive questioning seemed genuinely rooted in fascination with this process, which was almost annoying to their captor. It sighed, and begrudgingly answered.

“My body is beyond repair, as you may have noticed. Its previous occupant was gravely injured when I took their place. I was going to just scavenge for more parts… but upon picking up signs of unique, *living* biomechanical parts nearby… Well, that gave me a better idea.”

The two of them continued their walk, finally ending up in an enormous room.

Trashed control panels for an unidentifiable drive and gnarled viscera littered the floor. The foul stench of copper and rot emanated from a tub in the dead center. The beast pushed a reluctant Nightshade towards it.

The scared bot hesitantly peered over the vessel, only to be greeted by a viscous red liquid.

Nightshade nearly gagged upon recognizing the horrific sight in front of them, stumbling backwards away from the blood. Their captor, apathetic towards their discomfort, grabbed the young bot with a single clawed hand.

“But before we comment, I will need approval from a higher power.”

It dipped its free hand into the blood, and began to paint a sigil on the wall.

It licks its filthy hand clean before hovering a clawed finger over Nightshade's face.

“I require one last ingredient to achieve communication.”

Nightshade tried to squirm away to break free as the point of the monster's claw made contact with their cheek. Searing hot pain engulfed their entire face.

The young bot desperately tried to hold in their screams, not wanting to give their tormentor the satisfaction. Having never experienced anything like this, anything this unbearably horrible, how very, they gave in, screeching at the awful sensation. The whole ordeal lasted only a moment, and the monster revealed to them a luminous green liquid on its finger tip.

For a second, Nightshade was confused in its origin. Realization dawned on them as they felt the liquid trickle onto their chest.

“I'm bleeding.” They stated, their tone cold and grim from shock.

“A nice pretty green.” It laughed, mixing Nightshade’s blood into the sigil.

Nightshade watched in helpless horror as the blood twisted and moved upon contact, changing colors until eight white, luminous eyes took form.

_ _ _

Twitch shakily touched the two ends of the jumper cables together, watching with wide optics as they sparked at the contact. The jolt nearly scared the sprockets out of her, but she managed to take a deep breath to steady herself again. She stood over her unconscious younger sister, attaching the cables with an uncertain hum. A zap of energy filled the air before the car battery made a “pop” and went stone dead.

Twitch clutched her fists tightly, heat welling up in her face as her desperate attempt to wake Hashtag failed. She felt her knees go weak, and a strong urge to curl up into a ball and cry. Before she could give in, a faint whirring noise caught her attention. It was Hashtag's optics, groggily prying themselves open.

“Twitch? What's going on-”

With her energy revived by hope, Twitch rushed in to give her sister one of her famous bear hugs.

“Uh, good morning to you too.” Hashtag said awkwardly, patting her on the back.

Twitch grabbed her sister's hand, desperately tugging it as she tried to pull the larger bot up.

“We need to go, now! Something horrible took Nightshade and-”

“Whoa, slow down, Twitch. I just woke up.” Hashtag stood up, feeling the odd cables attached to her neck.

“I didn't go to sleep with these on, right?” She questioned.

“There's a giant monster keeping everyone asleep! I had to jumpstart you awake with that.”

Hashtag narrowed her optics incredulously.

“Giant… monster?” She parroted back.

“Yeah, the thing is probably twice the size of Mr Prime!” Twitch was practically dragging Hashtag outside at this point. “It sent creatures to attack us. But me and Nightshade destroyed one and I took care of another myself.”

Now outside, Hashtag didn't see anything out of the ordinary.

“Really?” Hashtag rhetorically asked. She thought this had to be some kind of poorly planned joke.

“Yes, really!” The smaller answered, frustrated that she wasn't being taken seriously. “Look, its remains are over here-”

The bisected upper half of the monster was gone, only leaving a puddle of oily blood by the opening of the garage.

Before Hashtag could react, her sister let go of her arm, frantically looking around the building’s exterior for any signs of the missing body.

Hashtag did her best to keep up with her, eventually finding Twitch directly behind the barn, seemingly frozen in place.

“Hey, what's wrong? You're acting-”

The upper half of the creature that Twitch fought previously cut Hashtag off. The two sisters watched in stunned silence as what should have been a corpse pulled parts of the other slain monstrosity into itself. Threads from its wound skewered and pulled scattered limbs, bones, and plating together to reconstruct itself. The final result took the form of a metallic homunculus centaur.

“So that's what you were talking about.” Was all Hashtag could say before the beast spotted the pair, instantly lunging for them.

They both were barely able to dodge the strike, causing the centaur’s arm to slash at a nearby bench, slicing it in two. After realizing it had missed, it started galloping on clawed legs in another loop before heading towards Twitch. She didn't have time to get up before it was upon her. Its front legs, the former arms of its lower half, held Twitch down as it prepared for a devastating swipe.

Hashtag took a moment to recover, before her optics lit up. She was right next to the family grill’s propane tank.

She ripped it out and triumphantly held it above her head.

“Hey, freak!”

The thing turned around just in time to have the tank smash its face in. Twitch scrambled free as it loosened its grip. She zipped away as the monster's head weakly turned to face her, its jaw hanging on by a few sinews.

She aimed her blaster at the propane tank.

“Yippee kayak other buckets.” Hashtag didn't get the Brooklyn 99 reference.

The tank exploded into a huge fireball. Chunks of the creature’s flesh and limbs flew all over the place. The sisters didn't have much time to celebrate before panic set back in.

“That thing must be doing something horrible to Nightshade!” Twitch belated frantically.

“Twitch, I mean…” Hashtag loosely kicked one of the detached parts. “It looks pretty dead to me.”

“No, a much bigger one got them!”

“Oh…wait, I've got Nightshade's signal! We can track them!” Hashtag said cheerfully.

“Wait, what?”

“What do you mean, what? Did Nightshade not tell you about those tracking implants they put in us? I can follow them.”

Twitch decided this wasn't the time to question that. She picked up her swords and gave her sister a solid nod.

“Let's get ‘em, Hashtag.”

_____

The bloody figure in the mural was similar to the monster’s minions, except for the enormous horns and eight spider-like eyes. Nightshade looked towards the thing to see a snarl replaced its grin.

His captors began, furious. “Where is SHE! I must speak with her you-”

“How rude of you to yell at your superior. Besides, she is busy at the moment. You should know that better than anyone… leach.”

The painting could somehow move, as if each brush stroke independently changed on their own.

“If you're asking to start your own colony, then the answer is still no. Even if she was here to allow it.”

“Why not? This one has the potential to bring a new generation into being. Plus, I have the strength and knowledge to lead the way to greatness.”

It pushed Nightshade forward like it was showing their teacher its homework, with a tinge desperation is in its voice.

“For one, you think you're anything special because you fused to a cybertronian body? Any brain dead husk could do that. Second, you are considered on line for execution for abandoning your duty and attempting to start a hive. Third, my lady wouldn't like to see this poor child be subject to your will.

So I suggest you just save us all the trouble of hunting you down, and end your life before we can.”

It finished with a scrap-eating smile.

“Leach.”

The beast's eyes narrowed, it's expression morphing into pure anger.

“You ugly son of a-” A barrage of swears and curses that Nightshade only heard in the movie came out of its mouth. Some of them were for languages they couldn't even begin to understand.

This gave Nightshade the chance to sneak away while it was distracted. When they were sufficiently far enough, they ran down what they thought was the outside door. They were met with a control panel that required a code to progress. Completely over this scrap, Nightshade just ripped the panel off.

After a bit of fiddling with the wiring, the door swung open. Nightshade sprinted into the cool night. They looked behind them to see their captor had apparently kept them in a crashed alien ship.

“Look, they're over there!”

A wonderfully familiar voice rang out of the forest. Not a moment later, Nightshade recognized the bright headlights of Hashtag’s alt mode, with Twitch, curiously, riding on her back.

“Hashtag! You're awake! Twitch, did you-”

Of course, they were interrupted by Twitch ramming into them for a hug. Nightshade awkwardly patted their sister on the back.

“Woah! Were you in there, Nightshade?” The largest of the siblings eagerly drove up the entrance of the downed ship. She was knocked backwards as the monster reared its head out of the entrance.

“YOU!” It bellowed, fangs bared. It reached towards Nightshade with feverish rage, clearly infuriated that it had been cheated.

Hashtag, still in her alt mode, took the initiative to drive at the monster's leg at full speed. Having taken it by surprise, it was off balance enough that she managed to cleanly snap its calf from its thigh. The leg went flying, and the monster screeched in pain.

“Wow, that actually worked?” She seemed genuinely surprised.

Twitch grabbed Nightshade and the satellite of Hashtag's alt mode, attempting to yank the two forward. “It's not going to stay down for long! We need to get out of here!”

“Aw, really? I mean, we took out its leg, right? That's gotta be enough. Can't I atleast get to check out the spaceship?” Hashtag pleaded.

The monster screamed again, rearing up to charge at them on its three remaining legs. “INSOLENT CHILDREN! I'LL WEAR YOUR CADAVERS AS NECKLACES WHEN I'M DONE WITH YOU!”

“...Nevermind, I want to go home now.”

With Hashtag having the most energy of the siblings (and being the largest), she stuck to her alt mode with the other two on the roof of her van, racing through the woods with the alien on their tail. Having removed its leg had slowed it down, but not enough that out running it would be easy.

Twitch was using what little strength she had to fire lasers back at their pursuer, to little avail.

“Hey, I probably should have asked this earlier, but where are we going?” Hashtag's radio called out.

Nightshade glared daggers through the window of their sister’s alt mode. “What?! Hashtag, you're the one driving! Are we just headed in a random direction?”

“I panicked! This is terrifying! Just be grateful I'm not leaking oil or anything!”

Before Nightshade could respond, they heard the familiar chugging of a train. Sure enough, just up ahead was one of the unmanned Ghost trains. Finally, a fighting chance.

“Is that a train?” Twitch took a moment's break to look behind her. A flash of recognition in her optics told Nightshade she had just gotten the same idea they did.

“Hashtag! Can you control the-” She began, but it seems her sister was also on the same wavelength. Using her remote hacking abilities, she had the cybernetic train slow down, allowing her to drive across the track. “Hold on, I'm going to make a hard left!”

The monster, clearly not giving it the human made locomotive a second thought, turned around to continue its chase. The nanosecond it stepped foot on the tracks, Hashtag had the train pull forward at max speed, obliterating its remaining hind leg. With a hellish roar, their pursuer fell to the ground, where Hashtag preemptively ran its torso over and over again with the train until she was satisfied.

“I saw that in a movie once, it's called double tapping. You don't stop until you know it's dead.” She chimed, seemingly happy with the results.

Shifting back to bot mode, all three siblings cautiously approached the slain beheatmoth, its nightmarish body splayed in half. Oily guts coated the tracks and train, leaving a thick smell of burned rubber and iron in the air.

“...I think I'm going to pass out.” Twitch fell to her knees, exhausted, clutching her forehead. Both Nightshade and Hashtag ran to her side, picking her up by the shoulders.

“Woah, hey, Twitch, you're good, you're good. That was the main monster, right, Nightshade?” Hashtag's big blue optics glittered with hope in their sibling's direction, waiting for a positive response.

“Well… yes and no. From what I saw, this creature is part of some alien society with others if it's kind. However, it seems its… higher ups, for lack of a better term, don't have much interest in coming to earth.”

“So… it's working alone, right? We're done?” Twitch pulled herself up, gaining a bit of balance.

“For now. This is something we'll have to discuss with Optimus Prime and Megatron.”

“Oh man, Optimus… are we going to get in trouble for destroying this train?” Hashtag worriedly looked over the damaged Ghost train. Unsurprisingly, repeatedly ramminging it into a giant alien had done a significant amount of damage.

“I think they'll understand.” Nightshade reassured her.

“Are we… we need to check up on the others at home.” Twitch began hovering back to the direction of the family house, still determined as ever to keep her loved ones safe.

A giant claw smacked her out of the sky without a moment's notice, breaking both her wing and the eerie silence of the forest.

It wasn't dead. Not completely, anyway.

The monster's head and shoulder were still loosely held onto its right arm by a few mangled tendrils, allowing the wounded creature to drag itself slowly across the grass.

“Nightshade, we aren't done. Please, listen to me. I can promise you-”

Nightshade noticed a glowing orb hanging on to the lower part of its neck, appearing to be some sort of power cell.

They walked over as the creature continued its monologue. It seemed to believe the green bot was considering its offer.

Nightshade stomped on the power cell repeatedly, until it exploded into a pile of azure sludge. As they had predicted, all life signs from the creature faded, and its tendrils loosened their grip on its body completely.

“I am so tired of that thing.” They sneered, unusually bitter. Their facial expression softened as they turned back to their injured sister. “Are you alright, Twitch?”

“Ugh, I'm… yeah, I'll just need to get this fixed.” She confirmed, shaking her loosened wing to test its durability.

Hashtag transformed, honking her van’s horn. “Ok, you guys need to tell me everything on the way back. I'm so confused right now. Hop on already!”

---FIN—

[miss-tc-nova]

S/O with Sleep Apnea - Trey, Jack, Jamil, Lilia

Okay, so remember THIS? Well someone (@kimdourden) wanted that with Jack and Jamil.

So I almost had that done when someone else (@delsierose) added Trey and Lilia!

So here we are. Sorry this took so long. Trey and Lilia are not my regulars, but working with them was a fun change of pace. PS, still not all that confident with my understanding of sleep apnea and its treatment.

Premise: The boys find out their s/o has sleep apnea

Words:

Trey: 603

Jack: 623

Jamil: 715

Lilia: 747

~~~~~

Trey

Trey accepts your snoring. It’s really a non-issue for him. Sometimes people are restless at night and that’s just how it is. And sure, you can be a moody at times, but he knows first hand that you didn’t get enough sleep.

Except he didn’t expect you to have sleep apnea.

The night is particularly rough as you toss and turn. Poor Trey sits up, a bit concerned by the excessive fidgeting. Sleepy Boi murmurs your name, asking if you’re okay but when he gets no response, he reaches over you for his glasses and the lamp. At last, you hold still but something’s off. He studies you, nearly ready to let it go, until it hits him. It’s silent. You’ve stopped snoring—and breathing. Louder, Trey speaks your name, pulling you up by the arm. This new position clears up your airways. So now leaning against your boyfriend, your snoring once again fills the air.

Perturbed, Trey readjusts and lies down, holding you against his chest. The image of you perfectly still replays in his head for maybe two hours before he falls asleep again.

Trey immediately clocks that you have sleep apnea after that. Someone in his family has it too so he sends a few messages to enquire about treatment alongside some personal research. Knowing you and your habits, the task seems somewhat daunting. Still, he’s not thrilled with what happened and knows it’s detrimental to your health, so he’s going to talk to you about it. The two of you discuss everything from surgery, medical devices, and home treatments. Whatever you decide, there are going to be some lifestyle changes.

He lays down the law—or tires to—about your afternoon snacking habits. However, Trey prefers to use the carrot rather than the stick. You’re rewarded for your craving restraint with…well, sweets. Sometimes. Trey’s reward is his baking. This could be puff pastries for breakfast or cinnamon rolls for desert after lunch. Whatever he’s making, surely it’s better than a store-bought snack after dinner.

This also means that Trey has to either convince Riddle to serve non-caffeinated tea at their parties, or he has to sneak around—which he would loathe, but do anyway.

In addition to bribery, Trey does his best to encourage you to stay awake and avoid naps. For the most part, he tries to get you up and moving, helping him with club activities, food prep, or painting roses. In the event that there actually isn’t something productive to do, well, guess he’s just going to have to kiss you.

Ultimately, Trey isn’t very forceful or mean about his attempts to alter your routines. He actively works with you and encourages you as best he can to change things for the better. It’s not the fastest way. Despite the rewards, it probably takes you several months to actually stick to the routine and start feeling any better. But you inevitably do. Your mood stabilizes as does your sleep schedule. Trey’s particularly happy that you’re reliably getting a full night’s sleep, comfortably wrapped in his arms.

“There you are. Do you want to come help me make the pies for the unbirthday party today. Come on, I’m afraid you might fall asleep otherwise. If you help, I’ll let you decide what we make next. Sure, if that’s what you want. Yes, you can lick the spoon, but only after we’re done. Seven help us if Riddle finds out I served bundt cake with your germs in it. No, I would prefer you didn’t. Okay, because it’s only noon, I’ll set some aside for you. Sound good?”

Jack

Jack doesn’t care that you’re a rough sleeper. Big Boi has siblings that he’s fairly close to, so nighttime fidgeting and snoring is no problem.

The Field and Track team has a competition one day that doesn’t return until late. Yet even as he opens his bedroom door, he’s not surprised to find you there, fast asleep. Finnicky about his own schedule, Jack hastily gets ready for bed, but just before he joins you, he stops. The room is too quiet. His gaze snaps to you, no movement to be seen. Your name on his lips and a firm shake of your shoulder jars your brain into correcting your airways. And the snoring resumes.

Offput by the event, but without answers, Jack climbs into bed, dragging you into his arms in the hopes that he would wake should another incident occur.

This is how Jack finds out you have sleep apnea.

A quick look with his phone tells him all he needs to know and, predictably, the wolf huffs about the challenges ahead of him. Exercise would fix 90% of your problems. Right?

Jack makes a deal with Sam to order two mouth splints in exchange for helping unload the latest delivery of goods. He’s already had to help other students fit theirs, so he’s got yours done pretty soon. Except only one is for sleeping.

Because Jack has little awareness for easing into things, you’re up at 6 AM the very. Next. Day. Not only that, but he has you joining SpellDrive practice with his dorm that morning too. He’s pretty intense about you going all out.

On top of that, you’re not allowed to nap. At all. Jack will wake you up on sight and have you do something with him. If you have nothing to do, now you’re running laps. So, by the time your new bedtime rolls around, you pass out.

After just a few days, everything is worse. You’re more exhausted, the apnea might be worse, and you inevitably snap back at Jack trying to push you to move more. Initially, he retaliates in kind and the two of you have get away from each other to cool off. You, of course, recognize you’re miserable, but Jack also comes to realize this too. He went zero to hundred too fast.

There’s a makeup after which Jack reins in his “help.” You may not wake up at 6 anymore, but he still wants you to come to the dorm’s morning SpellDrive practice. He doesn’t push as hard, but he may reward you if you’re at least walking laps as the dorm plays. But no, there’s still no naps. You still have to do things with him, but think less workout and more makeout.

Of course, at the end of the day, Jack will cuddle and snuggle like nobody’s watching. Because nobody is. He makes certain your comfortable sleeping on your side and that you’ve got your splint. It doesn’t usually take long for you to go to sleep anymore.

Honestly, you probably still hate it. Only Jack really seems to enjoy working out, but you can’t really deny this new routine is helping. With a more stable sleeping pattern, your daily exhaustion is nearly extinct. And the increase in activity is healthy for you in all the ways you hate to admit. Still, only Jack could get you to fix your problems with exercise. Sucker.

“Hey, you’re not nappin’ are you? Good. Don’t gimme that look. You know it’s bad for you. Well if you want something to do, we could go for a walk around the school again. What? Then what do you want me to do? Oh yeah? And how do you expect me to do that? Huh? I’m not blushing! My tail’s not wagging either! Forget it. Take your stupid nap. Grr, fine. C’mere.”

Jamil

Jamil is always prepared. His room was prepared for any issue the first time you shared the bed with him. So to only have to put up with a bit of snoring came as a pleasant surprise. That, he could deal with.

But he wasn’t prepared for sleep apnea.

Kalim wants a party because, of course he does. So Jamil is left to prep the decorations, prep the food, prep everything late into the night. You offered to help, but Jamil could see that you were struggling that day and sent you to bed. And by the time the retainer finally makes it to back to his room, it’s no surprise that you’re already fast asleep. Dead on his feet, Jamil gets ready for bed. A shiver runs down his spine, noting how eerily quiet his room is. His eyes scan the room, eventually falling across your motionless form. The realization hits, causing Jamil to lunge onto the bed, prepared to administer CPR. But the shaking of the bed has you grumbling and rolling over, breathing perfectly fine, snoring and all.

Jamil doesn’t sleep. His paranoid brain won’t let him, forcing him to compulsively search the internet for answers that he quickly finds. The rest of the night is spent researching countermeasures because that brief moment where he thought you were gone will haunt him for years to come.

The next day really sucks for Jamil, but he’s too preoccupied with his anxiety set to overdrive. He’s still attending to his duties to watch over Kalim, but now his brain is formulating a plan to alter your routines, which he so badly wants to implement right this moment. However, Jamil knows that people don’t typically change at the drop of a hat.

So changes begin slowly. He slowly begins weaning your sugar and caffeine addiction with healthier, equally-delicious options that won’t have you wired by the time bedtime comes around. His knowledge of your likes and dislikes makes this an easy task.

He begins keeping track of your sleeping habits, naps included. Your wake-up time slowly gets earlier and earlier and the length of your naps grows shorter until they become non-existent. Bedtime also shifts but Jamil has craftily created a winddown routine, and you’re not his only target.

About an hour before bed, Jamil’s phone, your phone, and Kalim’s phone get the same notification. At that time, only Jamil is allowed to access his phone, but only to monitor the following events, and set the music. The three of you have a stretching regimen to loosen up and relax. After, everyone washes up. Jamil makes a warm, non-caffeinated drink for you to sip while you three make a to-do list for the next day. Once that’s sorted out, Jamil sends Kalim off to bed and whisks you away to his room. Together, you prepare for the following morning: picking outfits, packing school bags, tidying the room, etc. By the time you brush your teeth, you’re very much ready for bed—just as you’ve been conditioned to be.

Jamil would be the one to recommend surgery. It’s up to you whether you do it or not, but he does express that it would make him feel better. And that he would absolutely take care of you if you did go through with it. Will guilt you about your naps and poor eating habits with it. “If you want your caffeine back, you better get that surgery” or “A nap sounds good right about now. Too bad you have sleep apnea.” It’s actually light hearted teasing, but also, he means it.

Whether you get the surgery or not, your symptoms do get better. Jamil’s always going to be somewhat paranoid that another incident will occur, but when he sleeps with his arms wrapped around you, he manages to convince himself it’ll be alright.

“Have you finished packing your bag for tomorrow? What about your potions book. Alright, I’m just checking. Would hate for you to have to run across campus between classes because you forgot it. Again. What? It’s not my fault you’ve got a fuzzy memory. Maybe if you got that surgery you’d get some decent sleep and be able to remember what you had for lunch yesterday. No. Not even close. It was curry.”

Lilia

Lilia thinks the snoring is cute. He’s up well after you every night and so witnesses your chaotic tossing and turning. Of course, he’s also noticed your occasional cantankerous behavior, especially after particularly restless nights. That will not deter him from loving you in the slightest. Or teasing you. He lives to tease and lives for your cuteness.

Admittedly, he didn’t expect sleep apnea to be the cause of your problems.

Courteous enough to use headphones, Lilia stays up gaming one night. Meanwhile, on the bed in the corner, you roll and roll, trying your best to get some sleep. Late into the night, the game ends and Lilia finally prepares for bed. As he’s sliding beneath the covers, he pauses. Silence fills the room, deafening and foreign. Ruby eyes fall on your sleeping form, alarms going off when he realizes you’re not breathing.

Quick to act, Lilia presses his fingers to your neck. Finding a pulse, he pulls you into his arms to relocate to the floor for CPR. But the moment your body shifts, your brain restarts and you resume breathing—and snoring.

He waits for a moment, thoroughly confused, but replaces you on the bed where you curl up happily. Taking surprises in stride as always, Lilia lets the moment go and joins you in bed.

For ages, Lilia doesn’t say anything. The event honestly slips his mind until a particularly grumpy day when you snap at him and he teases you about your attitude and messy sleep habits—especially the not breathing thing. While you grumble about going to take a nap, Silver approaches to question about the “not breathing thing.” That’s not normal. A bit of research reveals to them that you probably have sleep apnea.

Now that there’s an explanation for your moods and exhaustion, Lilia is more interested. He’s not particularly impressed by the suggested treatments but, for once, he’s willing to try them for your sake.

Lilia loves to eat whatever he can; it’s part of living so he’s never given it a second thought how much caffeine and sugar you ingested just trying to make it to the end of the day. And the naps. Lilia enjoys a good afternoon nap, but apparently those aren’t doing you any favors either. You’re not going to enjoy any of this.

But Lilia does his job in true Lilia fashion. That snack you had literally two seconds ago is gone. It was in your hand and now it’s not. It takes a day or two before you realize that Lilia is behind the thievery. Try as you might to sneak a treat, you can’t get one over on him. It’s cold turkey for you and a sheer game for him. Only the non-sugar-loaded sweets and decaf drinks are safe.

Naps aren’t much better. Lilia is a wildcard and will wake you up in whatever manner he deems fun at the time. You might wake up to soft, sweet kisses. You might wake up to having your cheeks pinched. Or you might wake up to a bucket of water. The kisses are nice, but the roulette is not worth it. And again, you can’t hide from Lilia. Even stealing away to Ramshackle doesn’t save you.

The first several weeks are hell and you’re pissed. For a while, you probably don’t even talk to Lilia, but that does not deter him from his mission. Your mood is foul, your sleep apnea is worse, and you might strangle the fae at any given moment.

But it does get better. Being forced into this new routine does improve your overall wellbeing with time. Your sleep schedule begins to stabilize, your fatigue and mood improve, and your need to consume unhealthy food to survive the day has been reduced. In the end, he may have been a massive pain in the ass, but Lilia improved your condition. Good luck living that down.

“Boo! Hehe. Are you behaving? Don’t have any tempting snacks, do you? Pity. I was hoping to play a little. Oh but it’s less fun when you’re in on it. Still, I suppose you have been doing well. I can’t even remember the last time I had to wake you from a nap. Should we celebrate? I’m sure I could commission Trey for a cake. You’re right, that might set us back. Well then what would you like as a reward? I see. Then by all means, come take them. If you can. Hehe.”

~~~~~

Nova’s Twisted Wonderland Masterlist

[drunknillawafer]

right down the line: zuko x firebender!reader | part 4

You grew up close to the Royal Family due to your father's position as a General, but you ran away from home after the agni kai against your best friend. Now, you've joined the Gaang and plan on doing your part in ending the 100-year war.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

helloo here is part 4... thank u for the support so far! i can feel my writing getting better... hopefully you guys like this part hehe... the next one is going to be so... angst... so... zuko... so stay tuned! again i do not own these characters or the atla world >.< enjoy! about 2,491 words & not really proofread at the end sorryyy

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

It was unbearable those first few months, before the move to the Earth Kingdom village. Previous defiance of locking myself in my chambers was a reactive solution to a persistent problem: The Fire Nation. No, I would need a more permanent answer to my problems if I craved peace of mind.

Since the moment Zuko’s screams embedded themselves into my brain, constantly replaying in a cycle of distress, I had not been able to sleep. I would lay down on the large bed with a wine-colored duvet and matching pillow-sheets, hoping the softness would swallow me whole. Take me to a different place than my home.

A lot of things would stop me from the bliss of sleeping.

One of them being my father. He was never one to share a lot with his daughter, let alone exchange kind words or attentive praises. He’s an important man with serious tasks, as he would put it. He doesn’t have time to watch my new fire-bending move or sword progress or whatever it was he most definitely didn’t care for. Over the years, I grew accustomed to our silent agreement. Happily, even. He’ll provide for me, give me everything I ask for, and allow me the freedom of my personal life if I excel in everything that it is I do, surpassing the royal heir’s skills in bending, swords, and education. I suppose it’s why he didn’t care for my special relationship with Zuko. He’d only see it as a move to get ahead in life.

It's what made him such a good General to the Fire Lord.

It shouldn’t have been surprising that he would force me to go to the agni kai. It shouldn’t knock the wind out of my lungs every time I relive the memory of realization that I’d be watching Zuko.

But it does. I couldn’t wrap my head around why. Why did he make me witness such an awful thing?

When sleep did come, I was rewarded with solace. Dreams of flashbacks, a time when I foolishly believed my father cared about the only child he had. There is this one recurring dream that I close my eyes and wish to come every night when I attempt to rest.

The first thing I see is the shamrock grass, crunching beneath my feet. Slowly, the environment pieces together as I fall deeper into my slumber. I see the stone as I walk forward, trading in the pasture for sleek, grey pavement.

Three more steps, and I reach the pond I know so well. This is when comfort finds its way back into my body. I take a deep breath and sigh; I am at the Royal Palace’s turtle duck pond.

Zuko walks up beside me in my dreamland, interlocking his fingers with mine. We stand side-by-side in silence, soaking in the seconds we are in each other’s hands. For a moment, I can believe this is my reality and there is no waking up from this.

Tears form in my eyes and the world around me is suddenly becoming foggy. The green washing away with the grey, becoming blurs in the distance. I can only see Zuko, and he is looking at me, and we are so beautiful.

I wake with a gasp from the one bliss in the round ‘o’clock torture I receive and begin the cycle again. Sometimes I lay back down and wish to return, other times I just lay awake and contemplate what I’m going to do about the pain. The truth.

Years of propaganda washed away in a single decision of the brutal man that calls himself my father. I can finally see clearly. The Fire Nation is a plague to the world, we’re not sharing our greatness. We’re a disgrace to life, and we deserve every bit of shame at our doorsteps.

I’m ashamed to be from this nation, and a fire-bender. A gift that could be warmth is destruction and chaos and terror. Who would ever want to be all those things when we could choose to be soft?

What is one girl’s opinion against a whole nation. A melancholy, depressed, broken-hearted girl at that. They’d never take me seriously. I’d have to try my chances with the outside world. Maybe I could hide my bending, pose as a swordswoman, find a group of some kind. A group who sees things as I do.

My body relaxes at the thought of a solid plan. I don’t know how I’m going to manage it but, I’m leaving the Fire Nation. And I am not looking back.

Jeong-Jeong’s headquarters were built on a piece of land peeking through a steady river. It was a small, tan-colored shack with many similar structures built around it. It was a sort of community of Fire Nation deserters who did not wish to be found.

Katara, Aang, Sokka, and I were taking a pit-stop here to let Master Jeong-Jeong teach the Avatar how to fire-bend.

While the rest of them were by the river, fishing, water-bending, or learning from the Master, I was alone, pacing back and forth from tree to tree deeper into the forest, wondering what to do.

If things here don’t work out for Aang, who would be left to teach him? Fire Nation deserters are not common and those who are fire-bending masters less so. My original plans no longer worked. It wasn’t about hiding my identity and being with the Freedom Fighters anymore. Now, my mind is set on helping Aang take down the Fire Lord.

I just kept stalling it. I hadn’t practiced my bending in front of people for years and suddenly I had to help a twelve-year-old take down an empire. Maybe Jeong-Jeong could do it for me, maybe not.

But one thing was clear: it was time to come clean to my friends. The days keep moving and the nights keep passing, and I’m becoming a part of their group just as quickly. I was never meant to keep this all to myself.

They aren’t like Jet. They can handle it, they can see. They would understand because they’re not here to cause more pain, harm, or war. They know me, they know I want to have peace as much as they do. The worst thing that could happen was I’d be off on my own again, but at least this way, I’d be honest.

Walking back in the direction of Jeong-Jeong’s hide out, I spotted Katara and Sokka by the river on their own. They were giving Aang his own space with his teacher, a few hundred feet away.

“Hey, Y/N, where’ve you been?” Katara asks, as she practices a bending move she’s working on. The water moves gracefully knowing it’s safe in her hands.

“Just… over there…” Awkwardly, I gesture with my hand to the forest.

Holding his fishing pole, Sokka raises his eyebrow at my poor attempt at a smooth reply. “Right… over there.”

I sit down on a log stump between Sokka and Katara and stare at the water for a moment. Is it really necessary that I do this? Do they have to know, I question in my mind.

Yes, of course, the sane part of my brain answers. Anything to stop the Fire Lord, anything to put an end to all of this. Remember? My conscious tells me. I do.

“I have to tell you something.” I finally say.

Sokka and Katara glance at each other, confusion radiating out of their eyes.

“What is it, Y/N?” Katara asks. She allows the water to flow back into the river, pausing her bending practice to sit down on the log stump next to me. She nods in encouragement. Sokka’s standing on my left, waiting patiently for my words.

“I want to start with- I made the decision a long time ago to hide when I was hurt and lost,” I pause. Sokka tilts his head, still confused. “When I was thirteen, I saw my best friend get burned by his own father in an agni kai. An agni kai is a traditional fire-bender duel won when one opponent burns the other.” Trembling, I let the words come out. “It shattered me. I was never the same.”

“So, you’re Fire Nation?” Sokka asks. I look up at him and see his face. A new kind of hurt was washed on it. When it comes to them, that hurt can mean a million instances of violence.

Looking back at the river, I confess. “Yeah, and a fire-bender. I ran away from home a few months after it happened, when my father and I moved to an Earth Kingdom village. The same village you helped save, Sokka.” The compliment does little to distract him from the truth I just spilled. “I found Jet and the Freedom Fighters, and they helped me. They gave me a bed, food, and a home. But then Jet turned out to be…” Katara winces. It goes without saying how my former leader betrayed his values. “You guys know he would never accept me, so I hid my true self. And I don’t want to keep secrets anymore. We have the chance to stop the Fire Lord here, and I want to do everything I can to help. As someone born in the Fire Nation, I have to restore our honor.”

The two siblings remain quiet for a moment, processing the new information. Katara is the first to speak. “You're a victim too. They’re just as violent with their own.” She puts a hand on my shoulder, comforting me after rambling out my past.

Sokka walks away, barely letting the dirt and sticks make noise under his steps.

“Sokka!” Katara calls out to him. She gets ready to follow him but I stop her.

“I’ll go.” I reassure. She nods and sits back down, watching her friend and her brother walk away.

After we’re out of Katara’s sight, Sokka stops in his tracks with a couple of feet in between us. I want to give him the space he needs.

Sokka turns around, his eyes instantly meeting mine. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.” He says, calming the stampede of anxiety in my veins.

Softly, I reply. "I'm sorry too."

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I… was so used to hiding. It’s my first time telling anyone since I left.” I explain. His arms are folded, creating an imaginary barrier between us.

“I should know that the girl I like is Fire Nation! It's very conflicting!” He exasperates. We both let the blood rush to our cheeks about the nature of his feelings.

We hadn’t really talked about it since he told me back at Aunt Wu’s village. There were small things, though. Miniature movements and gestures told me things had changed. Like when he brought me a rock that reminded him of my eye color or brushing his hand against mine when we walked side-by-side. Sokka and I could train in swords while Katara teaches Aang what she knows. He’s learned some of my sparring tricks, I’d have to switch it up on him soon. But it was diverting. At the sight of his ocean eyes, I’d turn into a softer version of myself. One I lost amid the chaos.

“Well, it’s not like I’ve been there recently! Maybe that’s why you didn’t detect me!” I say, keeping it playful. He shoots a direct glance at me, letting me know he’s being serious. I drop the jokes. “I hope we can still be… okay, though.”

“We’re okay, it’s just going to take some adjusting. I mean, you used to be our enemy… But I trust you, ever since Jet.” He uncrosses his arms and plants them by his side. “Is there anything else? I’m not going to find out you have a pet dragon, right?”

“No,” I reply, stepping toward him and closing the space in between. “Not that I know of anyway.” My footsteps stop a few inches away and I smile up at him. The tension from my confession has dissipated into the air, becoming part of the clouds, and now there’s just a little bit of space between us.

“Good, I couldn’t handle that.” A smile is fighting to erupt on his face.

I swear he’s about to lean in when-

Katara screams in pain from the direction of the river. Our bubble of infatuation is popped, and we dash back to Jeong-Jeong’s hideout.

As we rush in, I see Katara holding her hands close to her chest and a fearful Aang. Jeong-Jeong’s face says it all. He burned her.

Sokka's overprotective nature takes over. “Look at what you did! I told you we shouldn’t have come here!” He runs to his sister’s side, but she hides her hands away from him. Probably to protect the wound and… Aang.

“Katara, I’m sorry!” Aang pleads.

In a crying hurry, she runs away. Sokka motions to follow her but I stop him. “I’ll go, you calm down. Be easy on him.”

He huffs at me. “Fine.”

☆

Katara’s leaning over the river when I first spot her. Her hands are in the water, flashing a white light as her cries soften. She doesn’t notice me.

I step closer as I watch her witness the glow. Once the light dims and she pulls her hands out, I have a chance to speak.

“That’s a healing ability.” My voice catches her by surprise, but it doesn’t affect her any more than her new-found skill. “Water-benders are gifted with the ability to heal wounds. It’s like a medicine.” I explain.

“How do you know this?” She asks. I sit down next to her as she’s resting on her ankles, both of us facing the continuous river. If we followed it in the other direction, we could find Jeong-Jeong’s hideout again.

“My father always told me to fight your enemy, you must know your enemy. Basic aristocratic education. Didn’t someone teach you?” I question.

“No.” She looks down at her hands. “My mother died in a Fire Nation raid. They took all our water-benders.” The pain contorts her face.

“Is that why Sokka reacted like that?”

“Yeah.” She nods.

“Oh.” Seconds of silence pass, letting our recent exchange process in our minds. I attempt to make her feel better. “Water can heal, you’re lucky. All fire seems to do is destroy.”

“It’s powerful.” Katara says.

“He didn’t mean to hurt you, yaknow.” I defend the young Avatar. “Without proper control, it can get out of your hands. Then, all you can do is sit and stand. It’s not like the other elements.”

“Maybe Jeong-Jeong was right, maybe Aang isn’t ready to fire-bend.”

“I don’t think he is.”

[lilac-ravenclaw]

traces of lilacs | ch. ii - orphan’s overture

Here we go, second chapter! This one is a lot… a lot of scene changes and we’ll just a lot. Her adventure is just beginning.

Thanks so much!!💜

Warnings: cursing and abuse. But there is hope!

Word count: 7.6k

Ao3 link in comments📌 and in Bio

The next morning was quite foggy and overcast. Some of the girls were up early already, either for chores or for morning jobs. Majority of the girls stayed in their bed as long as they could. Raven being one of them, was lying on her stomach with the blankets pulled over her head. The smell of breakfast was slowly filling the building. It didn’t smell horrible; however, it did make her miss the lovely food from last night even more.

Last night she didn’t get back to the orphanage until late, so she tried to silently make her way to the washroom. Odette was still awake, as usual, reading while waiting for her friend to return to hear about how the evening went. She had heard noises outside the dormitories and got up to investigate. She saw her friend standing at the sink with her hair disheveled, a dirty dress and a new bruise on her face. Odette helped her and demanded to know what had happened. Raven told her the less she knew the better. She had felt bad for shutting her only friend out like that but had no other choice as it was for Odette’s protection.

After she changed into her nightgown and climbed into bed she had tossed and turned until finally passing out trying to get a decent night sleep. That night she dreamt of a red headed woman writing on parchment. There was a bird, an owl maybe, sitting on its perch next to her. Placing the parchment in an envelope she sealed it with red wax with a coat of arms crest with a large H. That was the only dream she remembered the rest of the night.

Everything that happened yesterday kept replaying in her mind over and over. She tried to think of some possible explanation for any of it. The problem was she couldn’t think of a single rational answer. Raven still felt the unwanted sensation of Albert’s hands all over her, it made her feel like she needed a hundred baths to get rid of the feeling. She had never been with anyone else like that before and to have that be her first experience was awful. The hungry way he stared at her like she was just an object freaked her out. How many other girls had unwillingly been at his mercy and could never tell anyone about it? She didn’t regret her actions as he deserved all of it, the biting on his hand, stepping on his… well he probably won’t be using that for a good while. She still couldn’t understand how the garden came alive wrapping around him to free her from his hold. It was all too surreal, and she wondered what other miraculous things could she do? Next thing she knew, there was an abrupt early morning ring from the front door and one of the girls shouted, “I’ll get it!” from somewhere in the building.

“You awake?” Odette whispered.

“No, not anymore. Just lying here with my eyes closed.”

“Will you please tell me what happened last night? Who did that to you—”

“I told you; you can’t know. It’s for the best. Please I don’t want to talk about it. Because honestly, I don’t even know what really happened.” Raven turned to lay on her back resting her arm over her eyes. As a shield from the daylight but mostly to hide the tears that were building up.

“Hmm… ok. I’m still here for you whenever you are ready to talk.”

“Thanks love. I appreciate it.”

Downstairs there was a loud roar, “RAVEN FAWLTY!” The scream could only have come from one person.

The whole dormitory went quiet. Raven sat straight up completely frozen. “Shit…”

Odette looked at her and yelled, “hide!” as the loud stomping of Ms. Tilcott’s footsteps were rushing up the stairs.

Raven got up as fast as she could, but it was too late as the caretaker threw the door open. She was already looking right in Raven’s direction. “How dare you! I told you not to fuck this up! Come here!” Ms. Tilcott was headed straight towards her. Some of the girls ran out of the room frightened, and the rest were shocked at situation whispering amongst each other. “You all hush up!” The caretaker paused to scold girls in the room and then turned back towards Raven.

“Stay away from me!” Raven ran around her bed, but the caretaker followed. Since the bed was in the corner it was going to be difficult to make a break for the door. She tried climbing over the mattress, but the caretaker managed to grab her by the arm tightly. Raven slipped on her nightgown falling to the floor. “Let me go!” she screamed.

“Leave her alone!” shouted Odette rushing over.

“You stay out of this Ms. Hall, or I swear to God I will throw your arse in that closet for the entire day with no food!” Ms. Tilcott dragged Raven out of the dormitories and downstairs towards her private quarters.

“You will do no such thing to her! Now let me go you old hag!” Raven yelled.

“Shut it you little shite!” She tossed Raven into the room slamming the door shut and locking it behind her.

“Do you have the slightest idea what I woke up to this morning? I received a post from the Bennett’s about your actions last night. Care to explain them or shall I continue?”

Raven sat on the floor scared and furious, knowing nothing said would have mattered. All that she cared to know was how much of last night was written in that letter. The advances from Sir Albert was one thing but the vines wrapping around him on their own was unfathomable. People do not take kindly to such things of that nature and there would be no talking her way out of it.

“Does it really matter? I’m just the ‘poor deformed little orphan girl’ right? So go on then if you think you know it better?” she provoked.

In a couple strides the caretaker marched up to Raven and smacked her across the face. Thankfully this time it was her untouched left cheek. The caretaker then grabbed Raven’s wrists dragging her to the wall and pulled back a small curtain. Behind it were straps mounted as Ms. Tilcott would use when conducting physical punishment on the children. Raven struggled to break free but all she could think about were the contents of that letter. The caretaker strapped her down facing the wall, “how dare you speak to me in that tone you filthy bastard child. Lord Bennett informed me of you trying to fraternize with his nephew, Sir Albert, and vexed him to going into their gardens. I should have you sent away for this Fawlty.”

Raven was silently glaring at the wall. Her heart was beating rapidly as she was fueled with such anger. There had to be some way to get out of this.

“Gone stay quiet then, are we?” Ms Tilcott stood behind her searching for something nearby the large bookshelf to her right. “Fine, I shall continue. He said you practically threw yourself on him like a common harlot, then for whatever reason played victim beating him! Ah there it is…” She picked up her cane resting beside the shelf, “they had found him in the gardens completely bloody, with a bite mark on his hand and clothes torn to shreds! The poor lad!”

“That’s not true! He was the dirty twat staring at me the whole evening—!” she protested.

“Ah playing the victim again, are we?” With that she struck her across the back with her walking cane. Raven let out a loud wail from the pain. In recent years, Ms. Tilcott had needed a walking cane especially when climbing the stairs, however, it turned into her favorite object to use for punishment.

“Stop it please! I wanted nothing to do with him—!” Raven cried out, but the caretaker pressed on.

“Shut it! Do you have any idea how this makes me look, Fawlty?! I am so tired of putting up with you and all these other bastard children! I hate children!” Ms. Tilcott smacked her a few more times on the back as hard as she could. “Is it because no one has ever wanted you that you went to seek out the hand of Lord Bennett’s nephew? No man will ever want you; I’ll see to that.”

She was starting to lose count how many times she was struck as she was starting to feel numb to the pain. Tears were running down her face, and her legs were getting weak and began to buckle, if it wasn’t for her wrists being bound, she would have collapsed. She’s been smacked plenty of times before but not like this. She also thought she started to smell blood. Thinking back to those strange miracles she wondered if she could possibly make one happen right now. From the position she was in, it was difficult to turn her head too much to look for way out of this. Deciding on the hefty bookshelf as it was angled perfectly next to the caretaker, she closed her eyes concentrating on it. “…please please…” she begged under her breath.

“Don’t you ‘please’ me young lady!” Another hit along with more name calling. Ms. Tilcott’s voice was starting to become faint as she kept focusing with everything she had for the furniture to move.

Steadily it started scraping across the wooden floor towards Ms. Tilcott. Once, twice… The caretaker had not noticed, until finally it tipped over falling right on top of her making a loud slamming noise. She had yelled but was instantly knocked unconscious. Books, papers, ceramic trinkets, couple brandy bottles were scattered all over the floor. Raven tried to turn her head more to see the damage but her back and neck were too sore. Her crying softened and was absolutely dazed at what happened. There was no doubt about it, she had moved that piece of furniture. She could do impossible things if she concentrated hard enough.

It was totally quiet in the room for a few minutes then there were faint sounds of scrapping at the door. Raven tried to steady her breathing calming herself down. Odette then burst through the door in a panic. “Oh my, Raven!” she cried out to her friend. There were a few other girls standing in the doorway and were appalled with that they saw. She rushed to her side and started undoing the straps around her hands. Raven collapsed the instant she was free, and her friend sat down next to her.

“Are you alright?! What the bloody hell happened!”

With her breathing becoming steadier and rubbing her wrists, Raven sat up on the floor looking up at her friend smiling, “did you just pick the lock?”

“Yes, but that’s not important now. Are you alright?” Odette was looking frantically back and forth at her friend and their caretaker trapped under the bookcase.

“A lot better than her,” gesturing at the caretaker. “I have to get out of here.” She slowly stood up and leaned against the wall for support as her legs still felt weak.

“Yes! Don’t worry we will take care of her, go get your things. Quickly!” Odette helped her out of the room and called a few more girls to come help to pick up the fallen furniture.

Raven raced upstairs as fast as she could, her energy was gradually coming back. At her nightstand she grabbed a bag stuffing her belongings in it. Her favorite novel Frankenstein, a small box of jewelry, her song journal and a white and blue passionflower inside a glass orb. It was with her when she was left here as a baby, and later researched it was native to the Amazon rainforest. These things weren’t much but it was all she had. Swiftly she changed her clothes and noticed faint bloody horizontal stripes on the back of her nightgown. No time to mend this now, she thought. Once she was dressed, she grabbed her bag heading for the exit.

Since the caretaker’s private quarters was next to the entrance, she could see how Odette and the other girls were doing. Even though the bookshelf was very heavy they somehow managed to get it off her and propped it back against the wall. Couple girls were sweeping some broken glass to the side and others were picking up various objects off the floor. Odette was gathering some papers and looked up when she saw her friend standing by the door.

“I’m so sorry…” Raven said quietly with tears streaming down her face again. She felt guilty having tested her abilities and now everyone else was cleaning up the aftermath.

“Don’t be sorry, love. You have always stuck your neck out for us and for me. Let us do this for you to repay that debt.”

“Is she…?” Raven looked over at the comatose Ms. Tilcott still laying on the floor. Some of the girls had turned the caretaker over on her back with a pillow under her head.

“She is alive if that’s what you’re asking. We already sent word for the doctor; he will be here shortly to tend to her. You should probably get out of here before he arrives.”

“What are you going to tell him? Tell her?”

“I don’t know yet, I’ll think of something. Now go!”

Raven gave her friend a tight hug hoping this wasn’t the last time she will see her best friend, “thank you.”

Odette hugged her back and started crying. “Don’t forget about me. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

“Never!” Raven pulled away and walked to the door. She turned around one last time looking at the only place she ever known.

“Goodbye!” Shouted some of the other girls, waving at her. She waved back now leaving to possibly start a new life.

One Week Later…

It was a sunny but chilly spring morning, and the carriage finally arrived at Tilcott’s Orphan Girls’ School and Home. Eleazar Fig stepped out of the carriage pulling a small satchel over his shoulder. He searched through the bag pulling out an enclosed envelope. Professor Weasley informed him the day before that a new student will be arriving as a fifth year in September. He was tasked with delivering the letter to the future student along with prepping them over the summer. It was a very rare occurrence for one to get their powers at this age, however, he was very much looking forward to meeting the new witch.

He informed the driver he wouldn’t be long and to wait for them. Professor Fig turned to look up the stone steps leading to the big double wooden doors. He had an uneasy feeling that something was off about this place. He held the letter a little closer walking up the steps. Each door had large round iron knockers and used one of them to knock twice. There was no answer for a few moments, so he tried again. Eventually the door opened, and he was greeted by one of the children. She was half peaking out from behind the door staring at him.

“Hello, I am looking for Ms. Tilcott? I believe she is the caretaker of this institution, is she in today Miss…?” He wasn’t a very tall man; however, he did have to bend over a bit when speaking to the young girl.

She let her guard down realizing he meant no harm. The professor was a naturally kind and warm man, since he has been teaching for many years speaking to children came naturally. She gave him a smile opening the door more and gesturing for him to come inside.

“Odette, sir…” she said quietly, “Ms. Tilcott is here but there was an accident about a week ago, so it’s been hard for her to walk. She’s only been getting out of bed since yesterday.”

“Oh, my Odette, that sounds terrible. I’m glad to hear she’s doing alright. May I ask what happened?” he placed the letter in his overcoat pocket.

“She was… well a bookshelf fell on her when she was… umm—”

“Miss Hall what are you— oh my we have a guest!” Ms. Tilcott, who was standing by her door, fixed her hair quickly and gathered her robe limping forward on the cane. “How do you do sir?”

“Hello, I am Eleazar, m’am, Professor Eleazar Fig.” He bowed his neck slightly at her.

“Ooh ‘Eleazar’ that’s a very unusual and interesting name. What brings you to this fine establishment?”

“Well Ms. Tilcott—”

“Please sir, call me Cordelia!” The caretaker said batting her eyelashes at him. Odette was still standing there and couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the whole act her caretaker was putting on for this stranger. Especially with her leg still wrapped from the incident, it all just looked ridiculous. Ms. Tilcott then turned her attention to Odette. “My dear Ms. Hall? Don’t you have class right now?”

“No m’am, no schooling today.” Every ounce of Ms. Tilcott was trying so hard not to smack her across the face. Odette knew this yet challenged her regardless.

Ms. Tilcott walked up to her and whispered in her ear, “if you do not make yourself scarce, I will make you regret such a decision after this good man leaves.” With that Odette marched right upstairs.

The caretaker turned back around with the biggest fake smile gesturing for him to enter her private quarters. Fig was becoming more uncomfortable by the minute and reluctantly walked into the room. She had closed the door behind them. “Now tell me, how may I help you sir?” she asked.

He looked around the sitting room and found that overall, it was a very normal looking. There was a curtain to one side, no doubt to divide from the bedroom area. There was a smaller curtain oddly placed next to a large bookshelf in the corner and what looked to be scuff marks along the floor. He thought back to what the young girl said about a bookshelf falling on their caretaker. He could sense a lot of distress had occurred here. What happened, he thought. Did Raven have anything to do with it?

He cleared his throat, “M’am, I am here to see about one of the young ladies. I believe her name is Raven Fawlty, and I have something to give her—” he reached into his overcoat to pull out the letter but was interrupted once more.

“Fawlty?! What would you want with her? We have plenty of other children to choose from,” she protested.

“Well m’am, as I was saying, I have a very important letter to give to her. I will also request to adopt Ms. Fawlty because she will be attending the school I teach at as the students live on the grounds.”

Ms. Tilcott could not believe her ears. This wasn’t for some job to pawn money off her, like she does with all the other girls, but someone was here to adopt her. As much trouble as Raven caused her, she still brought in lots of money for simply playing the piano at parties. After a moment of silence, she started laughing hysterically dropping the act and walked over to a small liquor cabinet. Professor Fig was astounded by this behavior. She poured herself a drink and offered one to him. He shook his head politely declining; Ms. Tilcott shrugged her shoulders amused. He was now starting to see her true colors and was a bit annoyed by her laughter, “m’am I do believe I am on a schedule today. Where is Miss Fawlty?”

She finally stopped and said, “she’s gone. Don’t know where she is and frankly, I do not give a damn.”

“Gone? But when? What kind of establishment is this you can’t keep track of the children?”

Ms. Tilcott marched right up to him, “Look Professor Sir, I have you know that child you are after is a troublemaker! Was in the middle of disciplining her and for whatever reason that bloody bookshelf fell on me! I was knocked out cold I was! Next thing I knew I was lying in bed with the doctor looking over me and that little twat was gone! So, if you want to give her whatever nonsense is in that letter you go find her yourself!” She sat down at her desk continuing to slurp her drink almost ignoring him.

He was speechless, but still curious about this whole incident. He walked over to the shelf examining it, pulling it on the side a bit to which it felt sturdy. He knelt to inspect the scuff marks on the floor. It was clear that it was not going anywhere without a great force, yet everyone so far said otherwise. He was now putting all the puzzle pieces together.

“I see m’am. Well, I do apologize for wasting your time. I appreciate your help.”

She struggled to get up, as she was never one to hold her liquor very well. He continued, “Please m’am no need to get up, I insist. Please stay put to get your rest. I will see myself out. Good day.”

The caretaker just grunted at him and still got up to pour herself yet another drink before disappearing behind the bedroom curtain. Professor Fig exited the room and found Odette sitting on the stairs, as if she had been waiting for him. “You’re looking for Raven? Is she in trouble sir?” she asked.

“Ms. Hall, was it? Yes, I am looking for her, and no she is not in any sort of trouble. Were you friends with Ms. Fawlty?” Odette studied him before nodding her head.

“Yes sir, the best of friends. I do not know where she could’ve gone. I believe there is a pub, that doubles as an inn, up the road. It’s possible she went there sir.”

He nodded at her, “Thank you my dear, that is very helpful. I shall start there. Please take care of yourself,” and headed out the front door.

She was amazed to have stayed at the inn for nearly a whole week. Since not having any money, she had managed to sneak into one of the upstairs rooms at the end of the hallway. Much to her surprise no one had bothered her, possibly another miracle. Raven still did not fully understand what she was capable of. After that frightful day, she tried to test out little things. Like unlocking the door to this room, which seemed to be easy. Much easier than moving that damned bookshelf. She was able to tiptoe around the staff to get food at the pub downstairs, otherwise, she hadn’t left the inn. She didn’t expect to be out of that place so soon. Everything had spiraled out of control so fast that there was very little time to comprehend the entirety of the situation. That horrible place was all she knew, and it was too surreal now being on the outside. Even though she was technically in hiding, as the Bennett’s were most likely still searching for her.

That morning, she woke up and used the small ironstone basin with a mirror stationed in the corner of the room. The basin was large enough to use it for cleaning some of her clothes or washing her hair, which was a bit difficult since it was long and wavy. She turned her head looking in the mirror, trying to examine the abrasions on her back. She was relieved that they weren’t as inflamed anymore, however, she was still sore. It was still going to take some time for them to fully heal and some may even remain as scars. The bruise on her face was nearly gone, though in the right light it was still visible.

This room had a mini balcony with just enough space for a chair to fit, along with a clothesline strung across, for which she already clipped some garments to the night before. After changing for the day, she went to sit on the balcony to enjoy the sunshine. She used her dressing gown as a blanket since it was breezy. Raven looked out onto the street watching the world go by thinking about what her next move should be. She couldn’t stay at this place forever and would have to leave eventually. There was the idea of going to see Maeve, but unfortunately, she didn’t know where she lived.

Raven had lost track of time of how long she was sitting there. At one point she saw one of those new motor vehicles drive by, not something you see everyday as they’re so new. The noise from the city didn’t bother her too much, in fact the upstairs area was quiet for the most part. Even with the pub underneath her, it was somehow peaceful. She couldn’t help but feel like something unexpected was going to happen today. Her stomach then started to grumble, so she decided to try her luck once more to find some food.

She got up and closed the balcony glass door and went to press her ear against the main door listening for anyone in the hallway, After a minute she cautiously exited the room. For a weekday it wasn’t particularly busy though there were still plenty of patrons scattered about drinking and socializing. She scanned the room and noticed a man get up leaving a bowl of porridge on the table. She looked around to see if anyone was paying attention, and swiftly walked over to take it. Thankfully it was untouched as the man clearly only finished whatever was in the pint.

She took the bowl and went to sit at a table in the far corner of the room where it was more secluded. There wasn’t much lighting in this area, save for a candle on the table. Hearing the pub entrance open an older man walked in looking around. She didn’t give him much thought while taking out her song journal. It was nice to not worry about someone constantly looking over your shoulder. As she was eating, the chair opposite of her moved and the older man quietly sat down. Raven still had a mouthful of food and stared at him wide eyed unsure of what to do. It was the first time anyone had acknowledged her presence while here and thought her luck had run out.

“Hello, I am—” he started.

She quickly swallowed her food, “I’m so sorry sir, I didn’t mean to squat in the one of the rooms, but I have no where else to go. I have no money, but I can work to pay—”

“Oh no Ms. Fawlty! I am not here for that!” he tried to reassure her.

“I— hold on… how did you know my name? Did the Bennett’s send you?” she was becoming more defensive.

He softly laughed, “The who? No, they did not miss. Please let me start over, I am Professor Eleazar Fig,” he leaned in a bit, “I teach at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” He pulled out an envelope placing it in front of her. She was so confused by everything he just said. Raven put the spoon down and picked up the letter.

“I’m sorry did you just say you teach at a school for…” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “…witchcraft? As in magic?” she raised her eyebrow skeptical at the thought of magic existing, then again with everything that has happened it would make sense.

“Yes Ms. Fawlty, I teach Magical Theory, and the Deputy Headmistress sent me to give you your letter of acceptance, as all students receive when their powers have developed. It’s all in the letter I assure you.”

She turned the letter over and saw a red wax crest with the large H, it was just like the one from her dream. She looked up at Professor Fig feeling hesitant to believe anything this stranger was telling her. As if he sensed her doubt, he nodded to encourage her to open it. She handled the envelope with such care while opening it like a delicate one-of-a-kind ceramic teacup. Raven pulled out the parchment and began reading:

Miss Raven Fawlty, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as a fifth-year student…

He patiently waited for her to finish and to gather her thoughts. She folded the letter placing it on the table sitting there quietly. Witchcraft, she thought. Apparently, I can do magic. Fig started to feel nervous when she didn’t say anything after a while. “Do you have any questions, Ms. Fawlty? I am here to help however I can.”

Her mind was racing, as she stared at the bowl she began to put the pieces together. So far, the only question she had was, “why now?”

“‘Why now?’ what…?” he asked.

“Why am I able to do these things now sir? Up til now my life had zero meaning but, suffice it to say, things made sense. I prayed for a miracle, since I can remember, one that would set me free from that place. So why is it I can do such things now?” She was fighting to hold back the tears. He was still a stranger therefore didn’t want to show that kind of emotion to him.

He thought of how he could reassure her. Clearly, she was angry and overwhelmed from all this information. After what he experienced at the orphanage he can understand where she was coming from. His late wife had a similar upbringing, and he wanted to do everything in his power to help Raven through this. She had brushed her hair behind her ear and started twisting her braid, it was then he noticed the faint bruise on her face.

“I may not know all the details, though I am very sorry with all you experienced in that dreadful place. I do not have an answer as to ‘why’, but I can try and help with moving forward.”

It wasn’t the answer she wanted, that is if she knew what kind of answer she needed, but it did help in some way. “It said I’ll be starting as a fifth year. What does that mean?”

“Well, Ms. Fawlty—”

That blasted name, she cursed to herself. “Excuse me sir, could you please just call me ‘Raven’? I don’t particularly care for the other name, as it was given to me by Ms. Tilcott when I was brought there as a baby…” she confessed. She stopped to try and compose herself; all of this was starting to become too much. Moving the bowl aside she buried her face in her hands.

Professor Fig paused feeling more sympathy for the young lady. He nodded and continued, “Oh I see, yes, I can do that. As I was saying, Raven, I am here to help however I can and prepare you for the new school year. Most students do acquire their abilities when they are younger, though at your age you would best fit as a fifth year. Students and faculty live on the grounds, and everything will be provided for during your time there. I will be accompanying you to collect your supplies, and we will travel to the school on the first of September. On the first day you will be sorted into your House, for which there are four of them, and then meet your fellow classmates…”

Truth be told she zoned out while he continued explaining. It wasn’t like what was being said was boring, but her mind was racing rapidly. Was this really happening? She felt like she was going to wake up any second finding herself back in her old bed. She also began to feel sick and looked at the empty glass on the table. He noticed this and before reaching into his overcoat, looked around to make sure they weren’t being watched. The professor pulled out his wand and waved it at the glass instantly filling it with water. Raven looked up; her eyes went wide from amazement. Her gaze went back and forth looking back at the professor and the newly filled glass. Slowly she reached for it and took a small sip. It was so cool and refreshing, like it came straight from a creek in a forest, not like the water they had at the orphanage.

“How did you do that?” she queried.

“As I have said Raven, at Hogwarts you will be taught extraordinary things. You needn’t worry about feeling scared and alone no longer. The choice, of course, is ultimately yours to make. Though I do hope you choose to attend, I can sense a lot of potential in you.”

‘…a lot of potential,’ words she has heard before from the few who cared about her. From Sir Erick, from Maeve, and from Odette. She never believed it before, usually just pretended to accept the words to not be rude. The choices were clear, to either stay on this path of never knowing her true place in this world. Maeve told her she had people waiting for her out here. Going with them would be the easy decision, once she found them of course. Or she could choose the path that is still unknown but full of unlimited possibilities. It was all quite scary in retrospect as going with this strange man truly did terrify her.

This all must be a dream, she thought. Thinking back to the vision of the woman writing this very post Professor Fig gave her today. But if seeing that woman was real then what else had she seen that has not come to pass? She buried her face in her hands again feeling unsteady from thinking about all this. Through all the confusion there was a little voice inside telling her she would be foolish not to do this. To take the chance. What else did she have to lose? Nothing, no money, no family name, and no plan of action after today. There was a part of her that needed to know, needed to find answers, and needed to do more. She may never find her family but maybe she can find herself. She took another sip of water and decided to take a leap of faith. At the very least, going to this place would keep the Bennett’s from ever finding her.

The professor sat up straighter in anticipation to her next words. “You said we don’t go to the school until September, where are we to go in the meantime?” He smiled at her and was relieved with her outcome.

“I have a cottage up north for us to stay during the summer. You would have your own private room during our stay. There I will train and teach you the basics of what will be needed to start school. I have the carriage waiting for us right outside to take us there when you are ready.”

She nodded her head and stood up from the table. “Ok, if you excuse me, I’ll be getting my belongings from upstairs and will meet you out front. I won’t be long.”

He looked at her skeptically thinking she might runaway if he let her go right now. She interrupted him, “No sir, I will do no such thing. I am a woman of my word.” She held out her hand at him, Professor Fig smiled at her standing up to shake her hand.

“Hogwarts will be honored to have you as a student.” He congratulated.

“Accio!” commanded Raven as she pointed the wand at an apple sitting on the fence. It went flying towards her at high speed. She quickly ducked to avoid being hit in the face. Instead, it plowed right into the tree behind her and was smashed to bits.

Professor Fig let out a big laugh. “My my! That was quite something young lady!”

Raven nervously laughed too. She was simply trying to bring the apple to her but instead turned it into a weapon. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all! You have done very well with that secondhand wand. I have never seen an apple be turned into a cannonball!”

Dammit that’s just what I was thinking, she cursed herself but started chuckling again. “I’m still unsure about how to command the right amount of force with these spells. This is the sixth apple today and they’re not slowing down.”

“Don’t worry my dear, it will get easier with more practice and when you have a proper wand. Remember ‘accio’ is more of a charm rather than a spell. Try focusing on the want: the apple being put into your hand. If this was a defensive situation then the need might be greater than the want.” He had taken another apple out of the basket and placed on the fence. “Wand at the ready Raven.”

She stood there staring at the green fruit concentrating. I simply want the apple in my hand, she told herself. Raising the wand, she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Accio,” the apple raised from the fence and steadily floated towards her. She kept eye contact the whole time guiding it with the wand. Even though it wasn’t that far away it still felt like ages to get to her. Finally, it rested on her hand and a smile stretched across her face. Professor Fig was clapping to her accomplishment.

“Well done young lady.” He praised. “Some charms you must picture exactly what you want and let yourself have it. Why don’t we end today’s lesson on a high note and go inside for supper?”

Suddenly her stomach started to grumble at the mention of food. “Yes please! I can help dice some vegetables!” She raced back into the cottage nearly tripping over the stone steps.

“As long as you don’t ‘accio’ the cutting knife.” He muttered.

It had been over four months since they started her summer training. She was exceptionally adapt with learning a lot of basic spells and charms thus far. Most were easier to learn than others, but he was very pleased with how far she has come. Each night she was buried in one of his many books, trying to learn as much as she could about the wizarding world. As a teacher he loves seeing his students slowly come into their own as they get older. Even in their short time together they had grown close. He never had children, yet he already thought of her as one of his own. She truly did have potential and was looking forward to her continuing that journey once school started in a couple days.

He entered the cottage and saw she was already preparing food. There was a creek not too far from the cottage where he took her fishing at earlier that morning and managed to catch a couple of fish for dinner. Usually, he would purchase foods at the market at the nearby hamlet but thought it would be a nice chance of pace doing something different. Once again, she was a quick learner and hooked a fish even before he did.

As he brought a fish out of the ice box to the kitchen counter to start filleting it an owl swooped in from the sitting room window, he instantly recognized the creature as his dear friend George Osric’s owl and detached the letter from his leg. Fig petted the brunet owl giving him a treat. “Thank you, Winston.” The owl gave a happy chirp and flew out the same window. Raven had only seen this a few times before, yet she was still amazed this was how posts were delivered.

Eleazar, It’s been too long old friend. Heard you have been training a new student over summer. Do hope it is faring well!

I’ll get right to it; I just received a peculiar item that had specific instructions to be delivered today. It was from Miriam, so you know what this means. I don’t want to say too much in this letter.

I know the both of you will be traveling to Hogwarts very soon, I request to accompany you to hand over this... object. I’ve already arrange for a carriage for the three of us and enclosing a location for us to meet.

Talk to you soon,

George Osric

He was surprised from receiving such information. Even though he thinks about his late wife every day, it was still unbelievable to know she was continuing her work.

“Is everything alright sir?” she asked concerned.

He didn’t realize there were a couple tears streaming down his face, and promptly wiped them away. “Yes, everything is alright. Just a letter from an old friend, who works at the Ministry, with some very interesting news. Nothing you need to worry about. I will say he will be accompanying us when we travel to the school.” He gave her a warm smile. “Now let’s fillet these fish!”

After they ate Raven had gone into her room to make sure everything was packed for tomorrow. He had given her a small handbag with an Undetected Extension Charm so she may put her personal belongings in. Since she grew up in a “muggle world”, as he called it, most of her items were still packed in a suitcase. Only the items she had from the orphanage were inside the special bag.

They would be headed to the school earlier than usual to help get her settled in before the Sorting Ceremony. She was very much looking forward to meeting the other teachers and find out which House she would be placed in. Professor Fig had a book about the founders of Hogwarts and the representation of each House. Honestly, she didn’t have a preference, she was just eager to learn more. All of it still felt like a dream and she felt anxious thinking about living in a castle very soon, like a fairy tale. Everything had changed so much already in the last four months, along with growing close with her mentor. He was very kind and patient with her while teaching. He had told her about the school choir, in which she was very interested in trying for. To learn magic and be able to play music, it was all too brilliant. He helped collect a lot of her books and supplies, along with some dress robes. She tried to offer in repaying for such things, as she never been doted on before, however, he insisted it was all taken care of.

She took out her school dress robes from the wardrobe and observed them. There was an odd feeling something awful was going to happen on this trip. On top of that, doubt was setting in as she was beginning have cold feet about going. Would she be good enough? She had been doing well with some of the basics upon all the reading in the world, but was it enough? Reading about these things will very different once she experiences it. School was about learning and growing, but she was starting so late. Everyone else had four years of experience and most have lived within this world their entire lives. Even though she was determined to prove her given last name wrong, after all she still came from nothing. He had told her about the pureblood families and their façade of believing they are better than everyone else. They were families whose names told so much about their history. She didn’t even know if one or both her parents could wield magic, let alone what her real surname was. Her eyes were beginning to fill with tears when there was a light knock on the door. Fig cracked open the door peaking inside, “do you have what you needed packed—oh my is everything alright?” and he walked right over to comfort her.

She stuttered on her words for a moment as the tears came down full force. “I just… I have a bad feeling something terrible is going to happen. Also, I just don’t know if I’ll be good enough as I’m starting so late. What if all this isn’t worth it? I appreciate the confidence you have in me sir, but I don’t know if I ever will see that in myself. I have been kicked too many times to believe it.” She buried her face in her dress robes.

He sat on the bed next to her wrapping his arm around her. “I can understand what you’re going through. My late wife, Miriam, had a similar upbringing and it took her a long time to find that spirit inside her. She was the best person I knew. Know this my child, that special spirit is already inside you, and I promise that one day you will find it. Once you do, you will do extraordinary things.”

Her crying slowly subsided and she looked up at him hopeful to his words. “I am forever grateful for everything you have done for me.” She sniffled and looked back at her dress robes, “dammit I got them all dirty.”

“That’s alright, remember the Scouring Charm?” he reached over on her nightstand handing her the wand.

She nodded pointing the wand at the garment, “scourgify…” and the snot instantly vanished.

“See you can do it. Now, if you’re done packing try and get some rest. We have a big day ahead of us.” He stood up and started walking out of the room. Raven nodded her head and hurriedly stood up to gave him one last hug before saying good night.

[alienheartattack]

Introduction to Demonology

Welp, I thought I was done but I wrote more fanfiction, and it's completely unhinged Rivamika incubus porn. It's explicit and definitely weirder than I usually write, don't read if you're a minor, etc. Thanks to the RM Discord for encouraging my degenerate ass. Enjoy!

You can read it on AO3 as well!

In the weeks and months after Eren’s death, Mikasa grew to dread the setting sun, to view the encroaching darkness outside as a mirror of the darkness inside her mind. Without him, without answers to the questions she’d been too afraid to ask, she felt adrift, like a dead leaf tossed around in the currents of life, unable to control her direction. Her body seemed to accept this state wholeheartedly, denying her the comforts of sleep more often than not. Most nights she would lie awake, replaying the last moments of Eren’s life, trying to determine whether she could have done anything to stop his thread from being cut short. Sometimes she would be able to gain a few minutes or hours of light rest, though that came with the risk of now-familiar nightmares of blood and steel.

She made the mistake of letting slip her issues to friends and acquaintances and was bombarded with potential solutions, and in her desperation she tried them all: warm milk, deep breathing, bitter-tasting herbal tinctures, every pill and powder and potion available at the pharmacy. None of these remedies could stop her wandering thoughts or calm her body enough to give her the relief she so desperately needed from her physical and mental weariness.

One night, she lay in the dark, having dutifully choked down some valerian root tea whose taste of sharp herbs and dirt came through even after adding copious amounts of cream and sugar, cursing herself for her ability to withstand even the strongest sedatives.

“I would do anything to get some sleep,” she murmured to no one.

Anything? a ghostly voice responded.

Mikasa sat upright, adrenaline animating her body, more awake and alert than before. She definitely wouldn’t sleep at this rate. “Hello? Is someone there?”

I’m here, the voice said. She could not divine the source of the low, silky tone; intensely masculine but with an amused bent, as though the speaker were smirking at her. 

Not here here, it clarified, as though it could sense her confusion. I’m not some intruder, but I can show myself if you want to speak face to face.

“Show yourself,” Mikasa demanded, her voice displaying more resolve than she felt.

The darkness in the room shimmered, moonlight and shadow undulating until they coalesced into the form of a man floating above her bed as though he sat in an invisible chair, his powerful limbs splayed in a posture of confident nonchalance. He wore a black suit and white shirt, open at the collar to reveal his collarbone and a hint of muscular chest, and held a delicate china teacup in one hand, taking occasional sips from it. But what Mikasa noticed most was his face: a strong, masculine jaw, a sharp slash of a noise, dark hair hanging over eyes that glowed an otherworldly silver, and a pair of curved, black horns atop his head.

“What are you?” she wondered in an awed whisper.

“Oh, don’t look so shocked. You’ve never seen a demon before?” the man said. Mikasa shook her head. “Then I suppose it’s your lucky day to be visited by a high prince of Hell.”

“I— I don’t understand.” She shook her head and rubbed her eyes, but the man — the demon — still floated above her bed with such ease that she felt as though she was the one out of place, not him.

The demon let out an exasperated sigh. “You want to sleep, I can help you sleep. In exchange, you help me.”

“Help you do what?”

“Are you just going to repeat everything I say?” he griped. He drained the last of his tea and waved the cup away, making it waver and vanish, the inverse of his entrance into her room.

���Well, excuse me for not knowing how to interact with a demon who shows up in my bedroom in the middle of the night,” Mikasa fired back, crossing her arms and glaring up at him.

Her annoyance piqued the demon’s interest; his lips curved into a small smile. “My name is Levi. I’m an incubus, which means I get my life energy through sex. The exchange is simple: you let me fuck you, and I’ll make you come so hard you’ll sleep like the dead.”

Mikasa frowned, holding his gaze with skepticism bordering on anger at his audaciously blunt offer. “Sounds like you’re trying to trick me into letting you drain the life out of me.”

“Tch. Not the best metaphor, then. Sleep like a baby? I just didn’t want to make you think of babies when I’m offering you as many screaming, gushing orgasms as your body can handle.” He shrugged as the filthy words rolled off his tongue, as unconcerned with his speech as Mikasa was scandalized by it.

“I don’t know. I mean… Eren…” she mumbled. Her gaze dropped to her hands, which lay clenched in her lap. My hands were meant for him , she thought. My touch, my body… they were supposed to be his.

“No, they weren’t,” Levi said flatly. “Where the hell did you get those ideas?”

Mikasa blanched. “You can hear my thoughts?!”

“Yeah, and they’re a huge fucking bummer. I get that you had a thing for Eren, but let me assure you, he is exactly where he deserves to be. Eternity isn’t long enough for that piece of shit.” He snorted, a soft sound of contempt punctuating his words. “I can make you feel very different. Maybe some things you’ve never felt before. I’ll show you if you want.”

“So you want to fuck me so you can show me what it’d be like if you fucked me?” She cocked one eyebrow at him.

“No, I mean literally show you.” She nodded and he reached out to her, two fingers extended like he was blessing her, and pressed them to her forehead for a moment. Images flooded her mind faster than she could process them: her throaty cries, his rasped moans and words of praise, skin slapping against skin, the squeak of her bed, the musk of sweat and sex.

Cold prickles of awareness broke out on Mikasa’s skin, goosebumps sprouting where she imagined he would touch her, contrasting with the sudden warmth and wetness surging between her thighs.

Levi watched as the familiar blush of arousal spread across her cheeks, coloring her gloomy countenance into something more lush and lively. “Don’t throw your life away for a dead man. Don’t give up one of the few things that makes life worth living.” 

She was silent, still unsure, so he added, “Have you ever considered why the pleasures of the flesh are Hell’s domain and not Heaven’s? Because they’re too good. It would be so much harder to keep the weak little humans in line if they realized that their limited time on earth was much better spent fucking than praying.”

Mikasa’s breaths came heavily, her body’s restlessness melting into arousal. “Look, I want to say yes, but I just don’t understand what the downside is supposed to be. There’s no way I just get fucked and then go to sleep. There’s got to be a catch. And what if I can’t sleep tomorrow?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the people who are out there speaking with great authority about Hell and demons are the ones who are trying to claim your souls in the name of Heaven. They don’t exactly have an incentive to tell the truth,” Levi said. “Sleeping with a demon creates a bond, but I only feed from you as often as you want me to, and I never take more than I need. If anything, I’m at your service. And your cervix.” His lips quirked into a brief smile; she grimaced and shook her head at his approximation of a joke.

“And this is really going to work? I’ll be able to sleep?” she asked nervously, grasping for more reasons to refuse him but finding none.

“You’ve never jerked off so many times you fell asleep? Or whatever the girl equivalent of jerking off is?”

She shook her head. “I haven’t even thought about touching myself since Eren.”

“But you’re thinking about it now,” he said, his voice deepening to a rumble, like the ominous yet strangely comforting sound of distant thunder.

“It’s kinda your job as a sex demon to turn me on, isn’t it?” she asked. The acknowledgement of her arousal combined with the knowledge that he could hear her inner thoughts as though she was speaking them made her bold; there was nothing to hide from him.

“Not all of us work that way, but it’s better for me when the other person enjoys it. Their energy tastes so much better.” Levi swallowed thickly, his own arousal growing along with Mikasa’s. There was power in her beneath the hardened sedimentary layers of her pain and grief, the hint of it already beginning to intoxicate him, and that power would only grow stronger once he unlocked the secrets of her body one by one.

“If you still have doubts, maybe this can convince you,” he said, opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue, flexing it like he was lapping at her now-slick pussy and not the air in front of him. Mikasa watched his tongue grow in length so slowly she thought she imagined it, until it thickened and grew a fork at the end, resulting in two prehensile shoots of muscle that undulated independently of each other.

Her mouth opened unconsciously, her breaths coming out in long, desirous pants. “I want that on my clit.”

“Not yet,” he said. “There’s a process. Just let me do my thing and I give you my word, I’ll blow your mind so many times you’ll forget your own name.”

She sighed, sadness tingeing her excitement. “I think I need that.”

Levi floated downwards, settling on top of Mikasa, his hands planted on either side of her shoulders, his weight pinning her to the bed. She shifted her hips beneath him, pushing her nightgown up her thighs as she sought out his bulge. She worried about staining his expensive-looking suit with her wetness, but she found herself sliding against soft, smooth skin that was diamond-hard when she pushed against it.

“Where did your clothes go?” she asked, trying to figure out when she stopped gripping the shoulders of his sportcoat and started gripping the firm, defined musculature of his shoulders.

“To Hell,” he replied with a smirk. “I can’t make your clothes disappear, though.” He reached down and yanked her nightgown over her head, leaving her naked beneath him. His skin was comfortingly warm against hers, as though he were a mortal man and not a demon, and she found herself completely unashamed of her nudity. She felt so bashful even thinking about taking her clothes off in front of Eren, and—

“No more Eren,” Levi interrupted her train of thought, and bent his head to kiss her.

Mikasa didn’t know what she was expecting from a demon’s kiss, but the lush press of his lips was not it. He kissed her like he was drinking her in, sucking at her lips and twining his tongue — now returned to its normal size — with hers. He stoked her arousal like a precious flame, letting her burn brightly but not out of control. He cupped her face in his hands as he kissed her, stroking her with his thumbs and marveling at the softness of her skin.

“You smell like sunlight and strawberries,” he murmured against her lips, following his words with a soft bite.

She pulled away from him, looking at him with amusement. “I didn’t know you were so sentimental.”

“Shut up. I basically get drunk when I feed. Don’t mind the bullshit I say,” he grumbled.

“Don’t want to admit you want me really fucking badly?” she countered.

“Not as badly as you want me,” he replied, reaching between their bodies to grip his cock and rub its length up and down her spread pussy, waiting for her expression to register exactly how much length he had. His eyes flashed silver with excitement when her kiss-swollen lips formed a perfect surprised O.

“Can you make your cock change size like your tongue?” she asked, canting her hips so she could rub her soaked folds up and down his erection, coating them with her moisture.

“Uh huh,” he sighed. He wasn’t even inside her and he was already feeling feverish and frenzied. His lips stretched into a rictus grin and he kissed her to hide his excitement from her; he needed to warm her up before he could give her everything he had, and he didn’t want to scare her off with his intensity.

Once Levi managed to calm himself, he strayed from her lips, pressing hot, open-mouthed, desperate kisses along her neck, shoulders, and collarbone, finding that she liked a hint of teeth at her pulse point, but she cried out and squirmed beneath him when he sucked hard at the juncture of her shoulder and neck. He could actually feel her dripping on his cock while she moaned. Cradling her close with one hand, he let the other wander, tracing his fingertips over the lines of her body, the firmness of muscle and bone contrasting with the soft pliability of her breasts. He focused his efforts there, alternating between soft caresses and pinches, and the sting of his fingernails tracing around her areola and over her nipple. When he finally grasped her breast, she shrieked and bucked beneath him, her back arching as though he had branded her.

“More!” she demanded, her eyes shut tight so as to focus on the intense sensations. He obliged her, kissing her deeply and grabbing her breasts with both hands, massaging them roughly, pinching and pulling at her nipples while she devoured his tongue and soaked his cock. After a little while he wrenched himself away from her mouth and attacked her sensitive, swollen nipples, mindlessly sucking and biting at them, snuffling like an animal. Mikasa’s fingers grasped at his hair, tangling her fingers in it and occasionally pulling when pain won out over pleasure. She soon found he liked the pulling, and that he’d work her even harder when she threaded her fingers through his dark hair and yanked with all her might. When he looked up at her, his pupils were blown wide, a thin silver rim surrounding inky blackness.

“Don’t you ever fucking stop,” she admonished him after a few moments of staring.

He scoffed at her. “I haven’t even gotten started.” Before she could even comprehend what was happening, he had her legs spread and her knees touching her shoulders, his thumbs pulling her labia apart so he could kiss her pussy and swirl his lengthening tongue around her clit, surrounding and massaging it with the forked end. She trembled beneath him like he was electrocuting her, her entire body fluttering with unspeakable pleasure. Levi’s eyes rolled back in his head as her juices coated his tongue, sweeter and more powerful than even the finest wine. Within minutes she was coming, half-words and incoherent sounds spilling forth from her lips, a primitive language that Levi could understand nevertheless: Yes, more, I love this, I never want you to stop.

So he obliged her, backing off from her sensitive clit momentarily and snaking his tongue down to her entrance. Mikasa made a questioning noise, wordlessly asking him if he was going to fuck her with his tongue.

“Mm-hm,” he hummed, already excited to see how she would react to his tongue filling her pussy, its tip pressing against her g-spot and rubbing furiously. Her moans grew raspy, her throat raw and dry from overuse, but she still managed to let out a healthy wail at his internal massage, and somehow got even louder when he traced circles around her clit with his fingertip. He gave thanks to his demonic nature for allowing him to keep a superhuman pace; whereas a normal man would get tired from the repetitive motions, he drew strength from her frantic responses. This allowed him to keep going even as Mikasa’s inner muscles clenched around his tongue, denoting her second orgasm, then a third in quick succession. 

The fourth came on much more slowly, but promised to be a big one when she started quaking in his arms. She was incoherent, her inner monologue completely switched off, her thoughts focused solely on Levi and the inhumanly wonderful things he was doing to her. Her nerves felt like they were frozen and on fire at the same time, heat and cold running through her in equal measure, her muscles alternately clenching and relaxing. Her skin felt cool and slick, though she could not tell if that was from her sweat or his, his saliva, or her cum. As he continued working her clit with his fingers and her g-spot with his tongue, she began to feel warm again in her chest and between her legs, shaking and keening as though possessed, then exploding and spurting cum all over Levi and herself as she screamed and sobbed through her climax.

“I’m not done with you yet, but let’s take a break,” he suggested, curling up next to her and pulling her against his solid, muscular body.

“Water!” she gasped, and he produced a glass of perfectly cold water from thin air, which she gulped down in such a frenzy that rivulets escaped from the sides of her mouth and dripped onto her breasts. Levi lapped the water from her skin and conjured another glass for her, refilling it until she was sated, capturing any errant drops with his tongue. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, her warm breath stirring his arousal, but he told himself to stay still, to let her decide when they could get back to it.

“I feel like I haven’t touched you at all,” she said after a while, lifting her head so she could bask in the shining silver of his eyes.

“Touch all you want.” He rolled over onto his back, opening himself to her. She propped herself up on one elbow and let her eyes and hands rove over him, from the softly amused, almost affectionate look on his face, down to his corded arms and thick chest, his segmented and defined abdomen, and then the flat, slightly sloping plane that led to his pubic hair and the largest, most beautiful cock she’d ever seen. It was half hard, resting against his thigh, with a streak of moisture adorning the tip.

“Is this where the term Leviathan comes from?” she asked with a grin, wrapping her fingers around its impressive girth and working up and down his length.

He returned her smile, excited by her excitement. “Uh-huh. People think it means a sea monster, but—”

“They haven’t gotten a chance to see this monster?” she interjected.

Levi snorted a laugh. “I didn’t realize my shitty jokes could be transmitted through our sex bond.”

“I guess we’re both gonna learn some new things tonight,” Mikasa replied, looking down at him with a heavy-lidded gaze and tightening her grip. He soon grew fully erect, his huge cock pointing at the ceiling, drops of precum forming and spilling over her fingers.

“I need your mouth or your cunt, something, just… more…” Levi panted, desperate for contact. “It’ll fit, I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt.” He willed his cock to produce more precum, the massive organ becoming slick and shiny as Mikasa stroked him. She nodded, her energy returning, growing along with her enthusiasm to take his cock inside of her. Without a word she gripped him by the base, lifted herself up, and lowered herself onto him, sliding down as though she was made to fit him.

“Oh, fuuuuuck ,” she groaned, her eyes sliding shut in bliss. She stayed still, trying to get used to the sensation of being so completely filled, of having his cock igniting every nerve ending inside of her, but Levi couldn’t wait any longer. His cock began to move inside her, thickening and stretching her, rubbing her inner walls the way his tongue had done. Mikasa went off like fireworks, lapsing back into her feral, languageless state, broadcasting every sensation as sighs and gasps and yelps. Levi grasped her by the waist and thrust up into her as fast as he could, slamming his hips into hers so fast it sounded like applause.

She tipped her head back and howled at the overwhelming rush of sensation, being filled and fucked within an inch of her life. Each thrust felt like he was spanking her pussy with each impact, making her come a little, her pussy clenching around him, emitting little spurts of cum every time he retreated. In the midst of this he rolled her over, landing on top of her, still pistoning in and out of her without missing a beat. She bent her legs back before he thought to do it for her, taking him even deeper.

“Fuck, Mikasa!” Levi moaned over the sounds of her fevered howls and skin slapping skin. “I’m not gonna last much longer.”

“Behind,” she managed to say; he didn’t understand, so he searched her mind for the mental image he hoped to find: him on his knees behind her, driving into her even faster and harder than before, his tongue snaking down to tease and fuck the tight bud of her asshole, her pussy dripping with cum and saliva, soaking the sheets beneath them.

“Whatever you want, my dirty girl,” he groaned, trying not to come just from the thought of him inside her twice over. He flipped her over and replicated the mental image exactly, thickening and lengthening his cock so he could fill her up completely, bending down and doing the same with his tongue on, then in her ass. Mikasa shook and sobbed beneath him, her body wracked with an ecstasy beyond comprehension, each cell in her body singing in perfect harmony.

Levi felt his orgasm building, starting in his balls and inner thighs, coming on fast and uncontrollable, more intense than anything he’d ever experienced. Usually he’d siphon a little of his partner’s life force while coming, still able to maintain his rationality during the transfer of power. This was something else entirely, a ball of white light and energy growing inside him, threatening to engulf him once it exploded.

Please, please don’t let me kill her, he pleaded with himself as he tipped over the edge, just before his thoughts faded into utter incoherence. I need to have her again.

His orgasm overtook him, the entire world going blinding white except for himself and Mikasa, flashes of intense color flying past him. Then even she disappeared in the blinding glow and his vision went entirely white. A tiny, rational voice wondered whether he was dying, but he found himself okay with the prospect.

When he came to, he sat upright, panting as though waking from a nightmare. Mikasa lay a warm hand on his chest, rubbing it in absentminded circles.

“You’re okay,” she said softly, letting out a deep yawn. “You just fell asleep for a few minutes.”

“Oh,” he sighed. “You’re alive.”

Her smile was crooked, loopy with exhaustion. “Very much so.”

“I came so hard I was worried I killed you.” His hand sought hers, squeezing it once, unwilling to vocalize the fact that killing her suddenly seemed like the most heinous taboo when she’d been a complete stranger a couple of hours earlier.

“Well, if you did, I would’ve died the happiest I’ve ever been.” She brought their clasped hands to her lips and pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles. He pulled their hands back to him, kissing her hand in return, as if to tell her that affectionate gestures were his job, not hers.

He looked around the room, suddenly disoriented, the surroundings and this woman both familiar and unfamiliar. “Was that flower always there?” He gestured towards a small clay vase on her nightstand that held a single bright blue bloom.

Mikasa poked her head up and furrowed her brow. “It was dead before, or at least dying. I was thinking of throwing it out. Did we do that?”

“I think we did,” Levi replied, letting out a confused sigh of a laugh. He pulled the blanket over Mikasa, tucking her in as she curled up on her side in preparation for sleep, her eyes already closing. He reached over to pluck the blue flower from its vase, inspecting its unfurled petals and the soft dusting of pollen inside them. Struck by an overwhelming urge, he nestled the flower in Mikasa’s hair near her ear, pleased by the contrast of blue on black, of the flower’s delicacy and the strength of the woman whose mind and body could disarm a prince of Hell. His usual protocol was to slip back through the closest portal that would take him to his quarters, but the thought of sleeping alone — without her — made him shudder. Instead he cuddled up next to her and brushed his lips against her forehead, drunk on the combined scent of flowers and sex and this wounded woman who’d somehow ensnared him. Smiling at how fortunate he was to come across such a precious mortal, he closed his eyes and allowed himself some much-needed rest.

When Mikasa woke the next day, she was alarmed to find that the clock on her nightstand read 1:47 in the afternoon, and even more alarmed to find that she felt refreshed and awake, ready to start what was left of the day with a clear head and an elevated mood. She flopped back onto her pillow, staring at the ceiling with a bemused smile on her face. The sheets were cool and dry beneath her, a far cry from her soaked bed a few hours earlier. The vase by her bed was empty; perhaps she’d thrown out that old flower like she’d meant to, and her demon lover was just a strange, vivid dream.

She waited for Levi’s voice in her head to tell her otherwise, and was disappointed when she did not receive a response. Sighing with disappointment, she got up to shower, trying to determine a productive activity for the remaining daylight hours: maybe weeding the garden, or stopping off at the market for more eggs and milk. Undressing in the bathroom, an azure blur caught her eye in the mirror: a crushed flower, as blue as the sky, tucked behind her ear. She cast her gaze down her body, inspecting herself and finding a bruise — no, two — no, dozens of them. Fingertip-sized on her breasts, larger and deeper ones on her neck and shoulders and thighs, and even a couple of scabs in the shape of Levi’s teeth where he had bitten her.

Her fingers skated over her wounds, making her shiver and whimper at the combination of pleasure and pain that radiated throughout her body. One hand drifted between her legs, spreading her free-flowing fluids around, circling her clit and fingering her pussy in a poor imitation of Levi’s supernatural prowess, while she replayed the previous night in as much detail as she could remember.

Not once, not even in passing, did she think of Eren.

I need Levi , she thought, fucking herself with desperate intensity as she braced herself against the sink. I need to feel him again. I need his hands on me and his tongue wrapped around my clit and his cock stretching me until I feel like I could burst. I need to come on him, all over him, as much as I can handle it.

“Come back tonight,” she whispered as she chased her peak. “Please.”

About fucking time you said something , Levi’s voice echoed in her head. I was starting to think you didn’t want me back.

Mikasa laughed aloud, joy and surprise and blessed relief enveloping her, pushing her over the edge. She came, her pussy pulsing around her slick fingers, her lips crying out for her demon lover.

Levi let out a deep, rumbling moan. That’s my girl. I’ll be there at midnight. Don’t bother wearing clothes this time.

She smiled at her reflection in the mirror, her mind buzzing with anticipation, and her eyes flashed silver in the afternoon light.

[parcequecestnotreprojeeeet]

Hello! It's Winter!!! I was going through writer's block until this story popped into my head. I hope everyone enjoys it. (Mature Subject Matter).

Her Thoughts

She weakly pulled him up to her chest, smiling at his glistening lips as she tried to catch her breath from the powerful orgasm she had just experienced, courtesy of her boyfriend's skillful tongue and fingers. 

“Now, it’s your turn,” she licked her lips, ready to reciprocate. “Lay on your back.”  

“Let’s just go to bed,” Emmanuel replied, kissing her softly on the mouth. “It’s getting late.” 

Let’s just go to bed. 

She lay awake at 1 AM replaying his words in her head, realizing she needed to get up and walk around if she had any chance of falling asleep. After sliding into her pink slippers, she quietly walked to the bathroom and closed the door. Flicking on the obtrusive light and blinking a few times to adjust her tired eyes to the yellow glow, Brigitte examined herself closely in the mirror, pulling at her skin and lifting her nightgown so she could get a better look at her stomach. It had carried her three children, but still remained toned thanks to her extensive workout routines and healthy diet. 

She was 47 years old, a far cry from his youthful age of 22. 

“I knew I’d find you in here,” Emmanuel sighed, relieved to locate her. “Our bed felt cold and empty without you.” 

His booming voice startled her and she jumped back, almost falling into his arms. She was not expecting him to get out of bed and look for her. The sight of his muscular body standing before her in just a pair of silk boxers rendered her speechless - but still heartbroken. 

“You’ve been in the bathroom for 10 minutes. Is everything alright?” He asked, placing his cold hands on her shoulders. Puzzled to catch her with her nightgown pulled up so high, he wondered what it could possibly mean. “Brigitte, you’re not ….” 

She shrugged her shoulders and broke free from his strong grasp. “No, I’m not pregnant. You know that’s impossible.” 

“Why were you looking at your stomach?” He asked, painfully aware she had flinched when he touched her. The conversation of pregnancy was always a sore topic for them, no matter how many times he told her, relentlessly, that he didn’t want children of his own, and that her children were his despite the fact they did not biologically belong to him. 

“It’s nothing. Just go back to bed.” She whispered. 

He wasn’t one to shy away from a conversation, usually becoming the most talkative person in the room when the topic on hand was one he loved and felt passionate about. And right now, he loved nothing (and no one) more than the beautiful woman standing 3 feet in front of him looking like she was ready to burst into tears. 

“I know something is bothering you. So, would you please tell me the truth so you can finally get some rest?”  Emmanuel pleaded, attempting again to touch her. This time she didn’t back away. 

She turned so he could get a closer look at her body, holding her nightgown in the same spot it had been when he walked in. “My stomach isn’t how it looked when I was your age. My breasts have lowered, my face is beginning to show my age and no amount of makeup can cover up the fact I’m almost 50. Everything is changing and it’s hard for me to accept it.” 

Brigitte spoke from the heart, mourning the youthful body she once had, deeply regretting that it had been wasted on her ex-husband. 

“Chérie, I’m not complaining. You should never feel insecure about your body. I happen to think you have the ….” 

She interrupted his sentence, not quite ready to let him speak yet. 

“Are you still attracted to me?” Brigitte closed her eyes, hoping the lack of eye contact would make his answer less soul-crushing. “Just tell me if you want someone else. Someone younger.” 

So there were absolutely no mixed signals, he pulled her into a warm embrace, placing a delicate kiss on her neck. “I’m very attracted to you, Chérie. Isn’t it obvious?” 

His erection against her stomach left no room for misinterpretation. 

“Are you bored of me? Am I not good enough in bed for you?” A single tear ran down her cheek. “Have you met someone new? A woman your age?” 

He stood in shock, wondering if she even knew what she was saying out loud. “Baby, tell me where these crazy thoughts are coming from. How could you possibly think I want someone else?” 

Brigitte took a deep breath. “Before we went to bed, right after you… you know… I offered to return the favour. You said - and I quote - let’s just go to bed.” 

He looked deep into her eyes, hoping to find the correct response in those deep blues, because right now he was at a loss for words. “It wasn’t about me tonight. Darling, every time I do something for you, I don’t expect you to return the favour. And it’s not a favour! I do it because I love you. I love making you squirm, I’m addicted to the way you taste, and I love knowing that I’m the only man who can make you scream, moan and convulse like that. Call me selfish or stupid, but seeing the pleasure I give you makes me feel like I’m finally worthy of your love. I wanted tonight to be about you and your needs. You satisfy me all the time, beyond my wildest fantasies. Your wicked tongue, the way your elegant fingers stroke my cock, your plump lips, your tight pussy, it’s all more than I deserve or ever thought I’d experience. I don’t do those things because I expect something in return. I do them out of love … and enjoyment.” 

She hung onto every word he said, trying her best to let it sink in. “So, you still want me?” 

“Of course, I do. Every single day, every time I see you, I need you. I have to fight the animalistic urge not to strip both of our outfits off every time we’re alone in a room together. Last night was something I wanted to do for you. Do not, for one second, think I don’t want you because, baby, I want you every second of every day.”

Hello Winter! ❤️

How your mind goes to "writer's block" to "hello smut" so fast is impressive 😂

Apart from the smut, it was also cute how Emmanuel dealt with that insecurity moment from Brigitte. He can give her amazing orgasms and still be a romantic sweet potato hahaha

Thank you so much, Winter! ❤️❤️❤️

[missywritesfor7]

🌺 Promise Flower | PJM 🌺

Synopsis: Jimin is a popular dance student and the best one at his university. Mina is a photography student and has known Jimin since high school. An idea for a photo project finds Mina getting closer to him than she ever has before. She learns how big his heart is, but also learns how closely he guards it. Every time she thinks he'll let her in, he pulls away again. Is it even worth the trouble?

Pairing: college student!Jimin x fem!oc

Warnings: depression, anxiety, panic attacks, alcoholism

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|| Ch. 8: Embarrassed ||

I wake up the next morning with a terrible headache. It’s been a while since I’ve had so much to drink in one night. The sunlight creeping into the room is burning through my dry eyes. Was I really that drunk?

“Morning, Sunshine.”

I turn over in the bed and see Jimin stepping out of his bathroom. For some reason he’s not wearing a shirt. Why? Where did his shirt go?? I look at him dumbfounded trying to replay the previous night in my head hoping I didn’t say or do anything that would cause regrets.

“Hey,” I mumble holding my head.

“Hang on,” he says smiling and walking out of the room.

Typically I would stop him and tell him to get off of his feet, but right now I can barely see straight. What a fucking hangover.

“Here,” he says returning with some pills and a bottle of water. “For your headache.”

“Thanks,” I say tossing the pills in my mouth and drowning them with water. “How are you awake and functioning right now?”

“I’m not a lightweight like some people,” he jokes sitting next to me on the bed. “I can make you some hangover soup.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I say laying my head back on the pillow. “I don’t think it’s that bad.”

“No?” He says raising an eyebrow. “Do you remember throwing up in the middle of the night?”

“I what? Did I really?”

“Yup,” he giggles. “You fell asleep then woke up 10 minutes later stumbling to the bathroom. Don’t worry though, I made sure you got there.”

“Shit,” I whisper. “Sorry. I guess I had a bit more than I’m used to. I didn’t…do anything else embarrassing, did I?”

“No, at least nothing that I thought was embarrassing.” Something about the smile on his face is telling me otherwise.

“What else happened?”

“What do you remember?”

“I remember being on the couch…we were watching something, or trying to, I remember that much.”

“Anything else?”

“Umm…” my head is killing me and trying to remember everything last night is only making it hurt more. What else even happened?

“Do you remember coming to bed?”

“No. Wait, I think? How did I get to bed?”

Jimin continues smiling not saying a word. I think harder about last night. He was pulling me by the arm into the bedroom after he said we should go to bed. After we kissed. We kissed. Holy shit we were making out.

“Remember now?” He asks reading the expression on my face.

Suddenly I’m embarrassed hiding my face behind the bedsheets. He only smiles and pulls the sheets away revealing my mortified face.

“Are you shy now that you’ve sobered up?” He asks tucking a bit of my hair behind my ear.

“No, I mean kind of. Shit, no. What I’m trying to say is…” what am I trying to say? We kissed. We made out. And I’m not upset about it, but I was so drunk. What the hell am I supposed to say?

“I’ll make the soup for you,” he chuckles. “I’ll make sure you feel better, don’t worry.” He stands up and walks out of the room leaving me laying there lost in my mind.

He’ll make sure I feel better? Does he remember what we did last night? Does he…want to do it again? Maybe a go at it sober to make sure it wasn’t just a drunken mistake? Also I’d like to remember it better. No, what am I saying?

I can hear pots clattering and utensils clanging around in the kitchen. I pull myself out of my thoughts and find the strength to get up and go see what Jimin is doing.

“You should lay back down,” he says dumping a handful of veggies into a pot of broth. “I’ll bring the food to you.”

“I told you you don’t have to. You should stay off your leg.” I can tell he’s putting most of his weight on his good leg and I know he probably shouldn’t.

“I’m fine,” he smiles. “Once everything is in the pot I’ll sit down until it’s ready.” He continues adding items to the pot and tossing some seasonings on top.

I open my mouth to protest more but his smile takes the sound before it comes out. Why am I so weak just looking at him? He’s standing there with the most gorgeous smile on his face as he prepares soup with no shirt on.

“But, your leg…” I mumble, suddenly forgetting how to function. What the hell is wrong with me?

“I’m ok, really. I’m almost done anyway.”

I watch as he gives the pot one more stir and puts the lid on as it simmers. He opens the refrigerator and grabs two sports drinks.

“You need to hydrate after all that drinking and…vomiting,” he says handing me a bottle.

“Thanks. I’m sorry about whatever happened last night.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. I had a lot of fun.”

“Really? I didn’t do anything to kill the mood?”

“No,” he laughs. “What do you think we did?”

“Well…I know…we kissed…”

“Do you think you did something to kill the mood while we were kissing?”

“No, I mean I don’t know. It’s kind of a blur. I’m just apologizing in case I did do something.”

“You didn’t,” he reassures.

“That’s good. But umm…I have a question though…where is your shirt?”

“Soaking.”

“Soaking? Why?”

“I helped you make it to the bathroom last night, but a lot of what you threw up made it on my shirt and not the toilet.” He smiles as if he’s amused by it, but I’m mortified at the thought of him having to deal with drunk me throwing up all over him all while he’s barely two weeks out of surgery.

“Oh my god, Jiminie I’m so sorry! I’m not usually this terrible when I drink. I’ll wash your shirt for you, where is it?”

“Mina,” he says chuckling and shaking his head. “Chill, I took care of it. And when did you start calling me ‘Jiminie’?”

“I didn’t.”

“You did. Just now. Last night too.”

“You must have heard me wrong.” He didn’t hear me wrong, but I’m so embarrassed for so many reasons already, I don’t want to add calling him a cute nickname to the list.

“If you say so,” he chuckles. “Go sit down, I’ll bring your food.”

“You should be the one sitting. I can get my food.”

“Mina, you’ve been taking care of me for weeks now. Let me take care of you this once. If my leg starts bothering me I’ll sit down, I promise.”

I can’t argue with him. Not when he’s like this…all cute and domestic. I can only nod and make my way to the couch. I watch him from the living room as he turns the stove off and prepares two bowls.

It’s clear that he’s happy to be able to move around on his own. He still has a bit of a limp, but he’s been following his physical therapy religiously and it shows even after just a short time.

Even so, I still want to get up and at least meet him halfway so he’s not limping around with two bowls of hot soup in tow, but the second I start to get up he tilts his head at me with the sassiest “stay put” look that I’ve ever seen from anyone that wasn’t a parent. That scared me back down.

“Eat it up,” he says handing me the bowl. “My grandma used to make this whenever I was sick.” He sits next to me and stirs his soup around with his spoon. “When I got older I learned that it was hangover soup. I also learned how good it is at curing hangovers.” He chuckles a bit looking into his bowl. This soup seems to be taking him back to some cherished memories.

I take a bite and nod in satisfaction. It’s delicious, filled with a bit of meat and veggies. There’s nothing fancy about it, he didn’t use exotic ingredients or anything, but it tastes like home comfort. It tastes like a warm hug laced with tender loving care. I have to take another bite just to make sure I’m not exaggerating.

“This is really good!” I say taking a third bite. “What did you put in this?”

“It’s my grandma’s secret recipe.” He takes a few bites and hums with a smile.

“Your grandma is amazing.”

“I know,” he chuckles.

We both finish off our bowls and he takes them into the kitchen. He doesn’t clean them, but he claims Hoseok will be home later today and he’ll most likely clean up for him. He says that he does clean, but not right away, which is the opposite of Hoseok.

Once again we find ourselves turning the tv on to serve as nothing more than background noise while we talk to each other the entire time. We discovered a new movie we both would love to watch, but we decided we’d do it at another time. We also found a drama that we want to start soon. I love that we have a similar taste in shows and movies. We continue talking over the tv and I can feel my headache gradually going away until it becomes a distant memory.

The entire time Jimin has been very attentive. He asks me every so often if my head is feeling better. He asks if I need more medicine or anything else to eat or drink. He massaged my scalp and let me rest my head in his lap as he ran his fingers through my hair. His touch is so gentle and soothing I find myself falling asleep.

I napped for about an hour, and when I woke up I was still in the same spot resting in his lap. I thought he would have tossed me to the side at some point. I look up at him and he’s still awake quietly scrolling his phone. He notices me stirring and smiles as if my big head hasn’t cut off the circulation to his leg for the past hour.

“How was your nap?” He asks.

“It was good. My head feels better.” I raise my head off his lap and rub my eyes to clear my vision.

“That’s good. I wanted to move you to the bed, but I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“That’s ok. Sorry I fell asleep on you,” I chuckle.

“You don’t have to apologize. You look cute when you’re sleeping.” He smiles and I can feel every drop of blood in my body rush to my face.

“You’re just saying that,” I say bashfully.

“No I mean it. You always look cute when you’re sleeping.”

“Probably not cuter than you.” I can’t believe I just said that. But shit, if he keeps smiling as adorably as he is right now I’ll say any and every stupid ass line I can think of.

“Yeah…you’re probably right,” he says with a cheesy smirk.

“Wow, such modesty,” I sarcastically huff. “That’ll be the last time I try to compliment you.” I grab a pillow and throw it at him making him erupt in giggles.

“How dare you throw a pillow at this face?” He laughs tossing the pillow back at me.

“You celebrities are all the same, so full of yourselves,” I joke.

“But you like it,” he says with a teasing smile.

Sometimes I can never tell if he’s just playing around or if he’s reading right through me. No shit I like it. I like everything about him. I like kissing him. I want to kiss him again. Right now. Maybe I should just do it and see what happens. Instead my phone decides to buzz constantly from a string of text messages.

[Tae]: MINA!

[Tae]: You didn’t go home last night

[Tae]: Why??

[Tae]: How am I supposed to come by and tell you about what happened last night if you’re not at home?!

[Me]: I’m at Jimin’s

[Me]: What happened last night?

[Tae]: I need to see you! I need to SHOW YOU!

[Tae]: When will you be home??

I don’t know what he’s on about, but his string of messages continues faster than I can respond. Jimin looks on with confusion on his face.

“Your phone is blowing up,” he says with a little concern. “Is everything ok?”

“Yeah,” I smile. “It’s Tae. He says he has something to tell me and show me. I guess he went by my place and realized I wasn’t there.”

“Oh.” Jimin pauses, still watching me texting back and forth with Tae. “Does he always go by your place whenever?”

“Sometimes I feel like he’s at my place more than his,” I chuckle.

“Are you going to leave now?” I don’t know why he’s asking as if I’d never come back again. His eyes are big and innocent like a puppy that wants to play just a little longer.

“Well no, I’ll catch up with him later.”

“Oh ok, if you need to go you can. Don’t let me keep you.”

“You’re not keeping me, I’ll just meet him for dinner later.” My smile is met with his reserved nod.

Something is odd, but I can’t tell if I’m just reading too deep or if something is bothering him. I mean, he’s like this a lot whenever I’m about to go somewhere. He’ll look at me with the same eyes as Blossom, which he keeps on the bed, and ask me if I’m leaving with his bottom lip poked out in a pout. I’m weak to the way he looks at me and that’s part of the reason why I’ve spent so many nights here. But he’s probably just lonely since Hoseok has been gone. Hoseok should be back soon so maybe he won’t feel so alone. Unless there’s another reason why he’s like this?

Maybe we should talk. About the kiss. I think we need to figure out what it meant, if it was just because we were drunk or if there’s more to it. If there’s more to it then maybe we should discuss it further. I don’t know. I just feel like the elephant in the room needs to be addressed. I’m not sure how to bring it up though.

Tae and I agreed to meet at my place for dinner at 8. It’s only 5 now so I figure there’s no problem with me staying a little longer to at least say hi to Hoseok when he returns and congratulate him on his win.

Jimin says he’s happy that I’ll stay a bit longer, but he seems a bit more reserved now. It’s like a switch flipped and he went from being flirty and playful to shy and quiet. My attempts to talk to him are met with short answers and forced smiles. I’m so confused because I thought we were having a good time. Why did he suddenly start acting like I was some sort of stranger?

Thankfully not much time passes before Hoseok comes barreling through the door to save us from the sudden awkwardness. He inspects Jimin from head to toe and interrogated him briefly to make sure he’s been taking care of himself properly. Once he’s satisfied he goes on to tell us all about his trip.

Jimin is back to his perky self when Hoseok is around and I begin to think that maybe I was thinking too deep and he just really missed his friend. It’s clear that they’re very close to one another, almost like blood brothers.

I figure I should leave them to catch up. I start feeling like the third wheel and I don’t want to be in the middle of whatever they may want to share with each other in private.

“Thanks for taking care of him,” Hoseok says hugging me after I announced that I’d be going home.

“Have fun with Tae,” Jimin says. While his words seem like they would be playful, his delivery is very monotone. It’s catches me off guard a bit how emotionless he seems to be right now.

It was weird and I cant stop thinking about it as I go home and wash off in the shower. We were enjoying ourselves, what made him suddenly build a wall between us? Did I say something wrong? Maybe he suddenly thought about me vomiting on him last night and got repulsed. I really wish I hadn’t gotten so drunk.

Does he think the kiss was a mistake?

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Yo so Ethan x Reader where the reader is Ethan's wife and mother of rose and the reader was replaced by Miranda so an au where Chris helps ethan to the aircraft where the reader is waiting and Ethan is happy to see his wife again, just a fluffy and happy ending?

A/n: Ethan! He deserves a happy ending man! So here he will get it!

also changed a little since the man does get his heart ripped out.

I hope you enjoy it my friend @emberstoriesandtales . { I’m replaying RE7 }

Chris had though Ethan Winters was dead, he saw the man get impaled. Your screams echoing in his ears as he handed you Rose, you child and forced you to leave with one of his squad members. But then he saw it, a slight twitch of his hand. He had to get to the man, he had to save him, he owed it to Ethan after everything he's been through.

Dodging debris of the falling 'tree', Chris pushed himself too run faster. He barley reacted to lifting Ethan on his back, he didn't react to the blood staining his shirt. All that he knew was that he had to get him to safety.

"Stay with me Winters, keep in mind you got a wife and a baby waiting for you...alright."

The muttering reassured him and thank god he could see the air craft. Chris was still trying to wrap his head around the man was even alive with the beating he took be right now he wasn’t going to complain because at least he was alive.

+•+

Hospitals, you never liked hospitals but right now you were going to have to learn to like them since your husband was laying in a bed right now. Frowning you reached out grasping his hand holding it tightly. The man slowly stirring awake.

“Rose! Y/n!”

Bolting up, Ethan felt a hand on his chest, his eyes doing it’s best to adjust to the bright light. “Where am I”

“The hospital, that bitch really did a number on you.” You muttered grabbing his hand bringing it to your lips. “You scared the hell out of me Ethan.”

Chuckling, Ethan closed his eyes relaxing back in the bed. “I’m alive? Thank god, then all of that was a terrible nightmare.” he muttered. He couldn’t believe he was alive, that he still had you and Rose.

Rose…where was Rose?!

“My parents are watching her Ethan. I’ll bring her in tomorrow okay. I just wanted to see you…had to make sure you were okay.” Leaning in you gave his head a kiss.now get some sleep okay.”

Trying to relax, Ethan slowly nodded his head. As long as his little girl was okay then he could at least try to sleep for you. Squeezing your hand tightly he closed his eyes trying to get some sleep.

He was home and now you were all free, free of this shit and maybe things could be normal.

+•+

If it was one thing that Ethan knew, it was that he was happy to be out of the hospital, he was just happy to be home. Lifting his daughter in the air he nuzzled his nose against hers. Rose letting out a squeal of happiness.

“So cute!”

You couldn’t help but squeal, from the hell of the Bakers to what went down in that village. Ethan finally had a look of serene on his face, he looked like he was at peace.

Chuckling, Ethan shook his head then walked over to you giving you a gentle kiss a Rose babbled, her little fingers grabbed his sweater. “My two favorite girls.”

“And my favorite man.” You teased pinching his cheek.

Sighing, Ethan than reached out to grab your hand, Rose still playing with some random thread on his sweater.

“Are you okay Ethan.”

Shaking his head, he closed his eyes. “Ya I’m okay, how can I not be when everything is perfect.”

[t-nd-rfoot]

one more bc i’m actually having so much fun thinking of these lol!

🍾 with hangman

HUNG(OVER)MAN aka After New Year's with Jake Headcanons

Even when Jake isn’t so good…he’s good.

Pairing Jake Seresin x reader

Theme Fluff

Warnings One mention of actual hangovers, I also just couldn’t think of another title

Word Count 570

Note This was headed in a completely different direction but seeing as it’s just after New Year’s, I thought this direction seemed a bit fitting! This was supposed to go up earlier (like right after NYE) but I had a not so great start to the new year so this took awhile to write and edit. Also, may or may not be loosely based on how I spend NYD 😬 I hope you enjoy it, love!!!

If you enjoyed this, please reblog! Reblogs are the best way to support creators (writers, artists, gif makers, everyone!) on this platform. Share the content, share the love!

On the rare occasion that Jake didn’t have work the day after a big event, the two of you would spend the day as quiet as possible

Every morning, the two of you would wake up absolutely exhausted despite oversleeping

But the drilled-in discipline from his military training will nag at him until he gets up so he’ll at least get up to brush his teeth

But the drilled-in discipline from his military training will nag at him until he gets up so he’ll at least get up to brush his teeth

Then it’s straight back to bed for morning snuggles

(He’s also barely awake while brushing his teeth so he also just wants to lay down)

The next time he gets out of bed is when his stomach starts grumbling

And he’s making sure you’re getting out of bed with him, whether that means throwing you over his shoulder or carrying you bridal style

Neither of you bother to change out of your pajamas, by the way

(And that’s assuming you guys even had the energy to change before getting into bed)

If you didn’t, this would be the time you guys exchange your wrinkled formalwear for comfy sweats and tees

For breakfast (or brunch, rather) Jake is always quick to stop you before you can reach for the sugary cereal atop the fridge

“If I’m ever too lazy to cook breakfast for you, then feel free to throw me out along with the garbage”

It’s a simple plate of eggs and bacon to share, exactly the way you like it, with a mug of hot coffee

Then it’s off to the living room couch for some more cuddling while sharing your meal

The TV volume is set to low as you idly flip through the channels or check out what’s streaming

But neither of you are listening to it

Instead, the two of you talk about your plans for the new year: things you want to do, places you want to see, etc.

You guys could literally spend hours on that couch just doing nothing

Also thanks to the many throw pillows you bought because Jake secretly loves them

At some point, he’ll starts to get antsy so the two of you drive around town

Driving through for coffee

Checking out the new restaurant you plan to eat at soon

Passing the scenic route on the way home

Picking up some pizza for dinner on the way

“Easiest dinner cleanup ever,” you said as you suggested it

“You read my mind”

And it’s back to the couch and TV for dinner, though this time the two of you actually pay attention to the screen

Even though you guys spent the whole day barely doing anything, Jake is alert the moment you yawn

He’s turning off the TV and putting away the leftover pizza while you get ready for bed

“Don’t worry about the mess here, babe, I got this. You go ahead so you can rest”

You stay up long enough to wait for him to get in bed with you

Once he kisses you good night, the two of you fall right asleep, recharged for life to go back to normal

In his dreams, he’s replaying the day he just had, doing everything and nothing with you

Because as much as he loves to celebrate big, it’s the small moments with you that mean everything to him

Disclaimer  I do not own Top Gun: Maverick or any of its characters. Please do not copy my work or translate without my permission.

[mca-attack21]

Semi-Flayed

Steve Harrington x Reader. Season 3 finale spoilers.

The floor was cold, the atmosphere chaotic. The screams of your friends were drowned out by the fireworks and snarls of the mindflayer. Despite the noise, you clearly heard Billy, or the Mindflayer rather, whisper, “Stay still, it will all be over soon," his words sent ice through your veins. You struggled against his grasp, but it was no use. Realizing the imminence of your demise, you felt an overwhelming sadness, not even for yourself, but for Steve Harrington, the first and apparently last love of your life. As the “flaying” began, he was the only thing on your mind. You hoped that he would survive this, that he would get out of Hawkins, that he would be happy. You hoped-

“Y/N!” Steve screamed as he blew his cover to run to your side.

This caught the attention of Eleven, who managed to use her powers to throw Billy away from you. She fell back against Mike. The rest of the kids were still blasting the mind flayer with fireworks. Steve used the opportunity to pick you up and carry you away from the action.

“Y/n? Can you hear me? You gotta wake up okay? I did not survive being tortured by Russians only to have you be flayed before I could even-” his voice broke, and before he could continue, he was rounding the corner to where Dustin was.

“Shit. Is she okay?”

“I don’t know. Billy - the mind flayer- how do we know if she? What if she was?” Steve tried, but his heart couldn’t even handle the idea of you being lost to him.

“She wasn’t flayed.”

“How do you know?” Steve asked reluctant to be relieved.

“The hive mind is activated, she would be awake and trying to kill us if she was,” Dustin explained.

“Then why isn’t she waking up?”

“I don’t know Steve, but we have bigger problems right now,” he said gesturing to the fact that they were almost out of Fireworks.

Steve hesitantly left your side to help the others and watched in absolute shock as Billy sacrificed himself. It was only moments later that the mind flayer collapsed. It was over. Jonathan hugged Nancy, Mike went to Eleven, Lucas held Max as she cried, and both Steve and Dustin turned towards you.

“Y/n wake up!” Steve tried shaking your shoulders. He lowered his head to your chest to hear your heart beating and feel your breathing, “Y/n, c’mon, I need you to wake up,” he tried again, sounding more desperate.

Before he could continue, the FBI came running in and they were all escorted out. Steve barely managed to convince the EMT to let him ride with you. He was stuck in the waiting room for what seemed like forever, shrugging off the nurses who offered to check out his injuries. Dustin, Mike, Nancy, and Jonathon came in, gathering in silence waiting for any news. The worst part for Steve was when your mother showed up, he had never felt more guilty than when he lied to her about what happened.

Eventually, the doctor came out with a flustered look on his face. He asked for your mom, and Steve quickly stood to join them. The doctor protested, but your mom assured him that Steve should come with her.

“So, I don’t know how to tell you this, but as far as we can tell there is nothing physically wrong with your daughter. She is seemingly in a coma with no cause. As such, there is nothing medically we can do other than sustain her condition if you choose to do so,” he then turned to Steve, “Can you run me through what happened again?” Steve managed to recount his story, trying to ignore your mother's sobs. As soon as he finished, he exited the room in shock, he sunk down to the floor, struggling to breathe, replaying the doctor's words over and over again in his head. His chest was filled with immense pain at the thought of losing you.

He sat there a while trying to calm himself down before forcing himself off the wall and back to the waiting room, where Will, Mrs. Byers, and Eleven had joined the others. All eyes went to him expectantly, but with one look at him Dustin said what they were all thinking, “Shit..."

Steve repeated what the doctor had said, Nancy pulled him into a comforting hug. While the others started brainstorming. There was an hour of outrageous theories until finally, Will realized something, “She wasn’t completely flayed, but the process was definitely initiated.”

“Obviously,” Dustin chimed in.

“But what is flaying? It’s like your identity being ripped away from you and replaced with the host mentality,” Will continued.

“So maybe Y/n’s soul or whatever was separated. Nothing medically wrong with her, because that’s not a physical connection” Mike added.

“So in other words, we have to jumpstart the connection again,” Lucas agreed, and then all eyes shifted to El.

“Do you think you could try to find her? Like you did Billy or Heather?” Mike asked.

“I can try,” El nodded.

Dustin walked over to where Steve was laying with his head in Mrs. Byers' lap. She ran her fingers through his hair like she had for her sons so many times, mind wandering to Hopper. Steve looked so broke, like he had given up any hope.

“We need to get into Y/n’s room, we think we know how to fix her,” Dustin announced.

It was like that swiped a switch in Steve, and he popped up at once, “What do you mean?”

Dustin explained everything to Steve and Mrs. Byers, and then again in layman's terms. From there the whole group formed a plan. Mrs. Byers and Nancy would go distract your mom. Dustin, Mike, and Will would distract the nurses. Steve and El would sneak into your room, while Jonathon kept watch. For once, everything went smoothly.

El was searching the cabinets for something to cover her eyes with, and Steve handed her the red ascot from his Scoops uniform. She went to your side and took your hand, instantly being transported into your consciousness.

It was dark, unlike anything she had ever experienced before. Every step she took was echoing, the entire reality was glitching in and out, but there was no sign of you.

“Y/n?” she called out.

The blackness would flash to a scene of you and then back to the nothingness, “Y/n, can you hear me?” El tried again, “I need you to focus on my voice, and I can bring you back. I’ll bring you back home, back to Steve.”

At the mention of Steve, the glitching stopped and El could see you know for the first time, you laid on the ground folded into yourself. You were pale and shaking, looking only a moment away from death. As she got closer she could hear you softly repeating, “Please don't, I'm sorry.” There was no indication that you knew she was there. She touched you lightly on the shoulder, but it didn’t phase you.

“Y/n? We need to get out of here, I need your help,” she tried, again receiving no response. The glitching started again, each time putting more and more distance between the two of you. El knew that you wouldn’t survive it much longer.

In the hospital room, Steve watched as blood trickled down Eleven’s face. He didn’t know why it was taking so long. He tried to get an idea of what was happening through the one-sided conversation that he was hearing, but even that was being drowned out by his fear of losing you, What if this didn’t work? The lights started flickering, the machines in the room going nuts, and then suddenly Eleven called his name, “I need you to talk to her, to bring her back.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Steve, we don't have time, just talk to her!”

“Okay….Uhm...Y/n? It’s Steve. Your boyfriend,” he started, feeling extremely uncomfortable, before his emotions took over. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to protect you. I’m here now though, and I need you to come back to me. I need you to wake up, cause you are the best thing that has ever happened to me and I don’t want to lose you. Not now, not ever. Please Y/n. I love you so much, please wake up." As he finished, everything went black, the entire hospital lost power.

In your head, every nightmare you had ever had was playing through your mind. You were cold and afraid, feeling lost beyond anything you have ever felt. Whatever was happening to you it was killing you, you could feel it draining you. A strange numbness started to overtake you. You weren’t giving up, you were running out of fight. Just as you were trying to prepare yourself for whatever would come next, you heard a familiar voice, “Okay….Uhm...Y/n? It’s Steve. Your boyfriend.” Hearing his voice made everything stop. A warmth filled you, and you forced your eyes open, seeing Eleven.

"El?" you asked weakly.

“You’re going to be fine, I’m here,” she reassured, moving towards you and taking your hand.

The next thing you remember was hearing Steve’s voice, “Are you okay?” he asked, you forced your eyes open to see who he was talking to.

“I’ll be fine,” Eleven reassured him, wiping her nose.

“Everything was going crazy in here and then the power went out...Is she okay now?"

Suddenly Eleven’s face lit up, “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

You had never seen Steve turn around so quickly in his life, a wide smile on his face as he practically dove onto your bed holding you like his life depended on it. “Nice to see you too,” you laughed. God did he love that laugh, and that smile, and you.

“I am so glad that you are okay,” he sighed, allowing himself to relax a little for the first time since he had found out about the Russian code from Dustin.

“Are you okay?” you asked running your finger lightly across his cheek. His eye was swollen and undoubtedly painful. His lip was busted and his nose was also bruised and swollen. In other words, he looked like he got into a fight with his hands tied behind his back.

He put his hand over yours and pulled it down to his chest over his heart as he had done so many times before, “It’s worse than it looks, I promise. I’m just glad you're okay.”

You were going to ask him what happened but were interrupted by the kids coming in excitedly. They were vividly telling you everything that happened after you were “Semi-flayed” as Will had coined it. You listened to every word, happy to know that it was all over. Their commotion gained the attention of the nurse, who proceeded to kick everyone out. Well, everyone but Steve who was practically glued to your side.

She went back to find the doctor and notify your mother, promising to bring back the ice that you requested for Steve’s eye. There were more happy reunions, followed by another round of tests, and finally, you were discharged. Joyce took Will, Jonathan, Dustin, and Lucas home. Nancy took Mike and Eleven back to her house. Your mom went back to your house and you went with Steve to his.

You both were exhausted but found it hard to sleep.

“What happens now?” you asked innocently.

“What do you mean?”

“How do we move forward from this? I mean nothing can ever really be the same can it?”

Steve thought for a moment, “I think we grieve and heal, then we start looking for the little victories again until this is nothing more than a memory.”

You nodded, “I love you, Steve Harrington,” you spoke softly.

You missed the grin that spread across his face before he kissed your forehead, “I love you too.”

You laid like that for a while, it didn’t take Steve long to fall asleep. You thought about what he said. Tomorrow would be hard, and the day after that too, but eventually your life would become some type of normal again. You shifted to look at his face, careful not to wake him. You felt a sense of relief, knowing that as long as the two of you had each other, you could work through the rest.

[bio1]

Hey everyone, we final got done with act 1 of my Earthspark horror theme fan fic called "throughout a rotted oak".

Was going of this posted on Halloween (since the story takes place there) but we just didn't have enough time or energy for that then.

Anyway thank you to my friend @billie-jay for doing A lot of the writing and grammar checking with me. Couldn't done this without them. Anyway here's the first act, Enjoy.😊

Also warning this story contains: descriptions of graphic imagery and body horror.

"Throughout a rotted oak" Act one: sleepy beginnings.

Despite how close to midnight it was, the sound of footsteps could still be heard throughout the dugout. A combination of caffeine and late night movie watching was keeping Twitch Malto wide awake while the rest of her terran siblings dozed off peacefully. In her defense, if Robbie didn’t want her drinking his energy drinks, he should have kept them hidden better. And the password to her father’s Netflix account should have been more secure than ‘bumblebee123’.

Though the entirety of the terrans had all stayed up to binge as many horror movies as they could think of (with the expectation of Jawbreaker, who had his eyes closed the entire time out of fear), only Twitch was still awake. As she paced nervously up and down the dugout, she looked over her sleeping siblings one by one. Thrash was in his alt mode, somehow completely upside down. His engine was repeatedly reving up and stalling in a cycle, as if he was snoring. Jawbreaker was laying facedown on the floor, a comically small teddy bear perched carefully on top of his head. Hashtag, who had tried staying up later herself by watching youtube, had eventually fallen asleep as well, her phone autoplaying what sounded like Russian dashcam crash footage. And Nightshade… Hm, actually, she didn’t see Nightshade anywhere. Not that she was really paying attention, however. Her mind was too busy replaying everything she had seen earlier in the night over and over.

The kids had essentially gone to the horror section on Netflix and watched as many movies as they could before they got tired. From goofier horror comedies like "Critters" to things genuinely terrifying physiological thrillers like "Halloween", and some striking and odd balance of the two like "Scream". What really got to her, however, was John Carpenter's "The Thing", and not just because of what happened to those poor sled dogs. That awful, morphing monster, the way it ripped the research team apart, really stuck with her. Possibly because it reminded her of a few of Mandroid’s own creations she had to fight before, epecially that bear mutant from mother’s day.

She was so caught up in her own head that she didn’t even notice Fluffy Ears right in front of her. Twitch ended up tripping right over the family’s pet cow, who decided it would be a good idea to sleep in the middle of the dugout’s hallway. She managed to catch herself mid fall by switching into her alt mode just before hitting the ground. The sleepy calf roused her head, looked at the little red drone hovering directly in front of her, gave her a quick lick, and fell back asleep. The whole ordeal was quiet enough not to wake anyone else, but it did catch the attention of Nightshade, poking their head out from around a corner near their lab.

“Oh, Twitch, I didn’t know you were still up.” They smiled. “Is everything alright? You look nervous.”

“How can you tell that if I’m in my alt mode?”

“Well, you’re shaking. Pretty violently.”

She hadn’t even realized that, but they were right. She accidentally bumped into Fluffy Ears pretty hard. Startled, Twitch switched back into her normal mode and tried profusely apologizing to the calf. Fluffy Ears didn’t seem to mind, and got up from her spot to start aimlessly wandering around the dugout.

“I’m, uh, I’m fine, Nightshade. What are you doing over there, anyway?” Twitch attempted to change the subject, making her way over to Nightshade’s lab. At the very least, this might be a fun distraction. Nightshade’s bright green optics lit up at this, clearly excited to show someone their work.

"I am so glad you asked." They tugged on their sibling's arm and pulled them into their lab. On a table in the center was a large, ominous looking metal contraption.

"Wait, isn't that-" Twitch began, before getting cut off.

"The reverse beartrap from Saw, yes!" Nightshade beamed, proudly holding it up. "The movies we watched tonight weren't particularly the type I enjoy, but I did appreciate some of the creative inventions a few of them displayed." They looked over to see Twitch with a completely horrified expression on her face. "Oh, are you wondering if it works? I am too. This is just a prototype I whipped up based on how it was explained in the film. I was actually just about to test it-" They reached under the table and pulled out a full pumpkin. Nightshade extended their arms and eagerly gestured for Twitch to take the gourd. "Since you're up, would you like to do the honors?"

"... Actually, I was wondering why you built a torture device in the first place." She finally responded, nervously looking it over. "I mean, you've built some crazy stuff in the past, but this is, uh, kind of disturbing, Nightshade."

Nightshade looked somewhat disappointed at this, shaking their head a bit. "You've got the wrong idea! A torture device implies that the victim is meant to survive."

Nightshade set the trap down and activated it themselves. Within seconds, it ripped the pumpkin open, its guts splattering messily onto the floor.

"A person wouldn't have survived that." They added, clearly happy the machine worked as intended.

Twitch flinched and stood back, her eyes growing to the size of dinner plates.

"Twitch?" Nightshade asked, concerned. "What is-oh. I get it. Don't worry, it was never my intention to use this on any living being. I just like challenging myself, and building this seemed like it would be an interesting experiment." They began scooping the guts off the concrete floor. "The thought of this device ever actually being used for its original purpose… that's something I wouldn't even have wished on Mandroid." They muse. Noticing their sister was still silent, Nightshade approached her, a worried look forming on their features.

"Are you sure you're alright? You didn't think I was really going to-" Twitch cut them off.

"No! Oh, no, I know you wouldn't, Shady. I'm just kind of on edge tonight, I guess. Probably shouldn't have stolen Robbie's energy drinks." She attempted to brush off their concern as convincingly as she could.

"You probably shouldn't have! Caffeine can worsen the hyperactive aspects of ADHD after all." They agreed, patting her on the shoulder.

"...You think I have ADHD?"

Before Nightshade could respond, a massive crunch boomed out from above them.

"What was that!?" Twitch flew out in search of the cacophony. Nightshade, trying their best to keep up with her, tiptoed as softly as they could to prevent waking the others. They found Twitch looking through the camera screens in the main room of the dugout. There was nothing unusual on live feed, just a few autumn leaves blowing past the cameras Nightshade has placed around the ranch.

"Should we-" Nightshade began, getting cut off again.

"Check it out? Yes, obviously!" She seemed a little too excited to see what was out there. Perhaps she was just looking for an excuse to feel useful, or burn off some of her energy.

Without a second of hesitation, she switched to her alt mode and flew outside, wildly darting around the sky above the dugout. Twitch changed back into bot mode as she landed on the barn's roof. With the moonlight nearly hidden behind a thick layer of clouds, it was almost pitch black outside. Nightshade caught up with their energetic sister, surprised to see her standing still as a statue.

"Twitch! There is nothing out here but the nocturnal wildlife. Perhaps it was a raccoon who made that sound." Nightshade said.

Twitch responded in a shaky tone. "Nightshade, what kind of raccoon could make a noise that loud?"

"...One with rabies?"

"Wait! Listen for a moment." She hushed, falling silent again.

Nightshade listened for something out there to satisfy their sister's paranoia. "I hear nothing Twitch."

"Exactly, Nightshade! There's nothing! No crickets chirping, none of the cows are making any sound, there aren't even moths near the lights!" She exclaimed frantically.

"Oh goodness, you're right. Now that is odd. The only time it's ever perfectly quiet outside is when there is something…dangerous around."

Nightshade glared in front of them, attempting to make out the source of the eerie calmness.

"That tree… wasn't there before." They noted, their voice shaky as they pointed ahead.

Twitch turned to see what her sibling was referring to. In the middle of the forest, several hundred meters away from the barn, a massively tall, crooked tree stood high above the rest. It only has three twisted branches, growing out of its spindly stalk in such a way to vaguely resemble a humanoid figure with bending limbs. One branch in the middle rounded out at the end to form the "head" of this horrific plant.

"Ok, so that certainly wasn't a raccoon then." Nightshade commented. Their sister began switching into her alt mode, before the younger green bot grabbed hold of her. "Twitch, wait! Going out to investigate… whatever that is right away probably isn't a good idea. We should at least think this through first."

Twitch struggled in their grip for a second before shaking herself off, but didn't immediately fly out like she wanted to. "What's the hold up? You seriously want to just head in and call it a night?" She snapped at them.

"No, of course not. I just think we shouldn't do it alone." They added, remaining calm.

"And give that tree-thing a chance to move in first? I don't think so." Twitch shifted and took off into the sky. Reluctantly, Nightshade changed into their alt mode as well, flying directly in front of her to block her path.

"Twitch! What's gotten into you?" They asked frantically. Thankfully for them, Twitch did stop on her tracks. "You clearly aren't doing well tonight. Whatever's got you troubled, I'm here for you, and so is the rest of the family."

"We clearly have bigger issues than my anxiety to deal with right now!" She shouted. "Things like… that are just more proof I haven't been doing enough to keep us safe."

"Is that what this is about? Twitch, this isn't your fault-" she cut them off.

"Well it'll be both of our faults if that tree monster gets its dirty roots on the others because we were busy screwing around here!"

Nightshade wasn't sure how to respond. Twitch’s panicked tone and expression afe it clear how stressed and out of it she was. But how were they supposed to comfort her? This entire situation was making it hard for even them to think, especially with that giant tree staring at them-

Wait, the tree was staring at them?

Nightshade slowly turned their head to get a better look, and to their horror, the tall head of the ominous tree had sprouted a pair of huge, glowing eyes.

“We need to go back inside, now!” They grabbed Twitch's arm with their talons, dragging their sister behind them. Almost involuntarily, the younger mech let out an owlish screech as they dived back into the dugout from the entrance in the barn's roof.

Switching back into their alt mode, Nightshade rushed over to the console displaying the security cameras’ feds. They displayed nothing but static, oddly enough. Nightshade, frustrated and confused, frantically tried fixing the console, but nothing seemed to be working.

After a few moments, Twitch quietly approached her sibling, meekly tapping them on the shoulder. “Shady, I need to tell you something…”

“I'm not mad at you, Twitch. Just, I need to focus right now-”

“That's not what an owl sounds like.” She continued.

Nightshade stopped what they were working on and turned to face her. “...I'm sorry?”

“I've been meaning to say this ever since you got your alt mode, but that owl screech you do isn't actually what owls sound like. The noise you make is more like an eagle or a hawk.”

Nightshade just sort of stared at her, not sure what to say.

“Oh.” Was all they could think of as a response.

“Wait, why would you bring that up now?”

“I'm sorry! I'm scared! I can't even really think straight, it feels like my brain is shutting down…” She grabbed onto her head and shook it, as if trying to forcefully wake herself up.

Nightshade tried to go back to fixing the camera system, but found that their own mind felt somewhat fuzzy as well. They've repaired similar errors on this exact console plenty of times before. Yet for some reason, the solution just wasn't coming to them now.

“It had eyes, didn't it? That's what those were, in the tree, I mean. Huge eyes.” Twitch finally spoke, her usually fast speaking voice noticeably low in energy. “Do you think… that was something Ghost made?”

“I can't imagine what use they would have with a giant, monstrous tree.” Nightshade answered, putting down the wires they were fiddling with. “We should alert the others.”

“...Right.” their sister responded. She glided over to the nearest Malto sibling, that being Hashtag. The large purple mech was still peacefully dozing off with her phone now playing, of all things, Wendigoon’s conspiracy theory iceberg. As if this whole situation wasn't ominous enough.

Twitch gently nudged the larger bot’s shoulder. “Hashtag? Get up, something happened.”

No response. She was still completely out of it.

“H-hashtag?” Twitch shook her sister a little more forcefully now.

She still didn't stir.

“HASHTAG! WAKE UP!” Twitch yelled as loudly as possible, but this didn't do much besides startle the already well-awake Nightshade.

The smaller red bot, frustrated at this point, switched into her alt mode and fired a laser several inches from her sleeping sister. This also accomplished nothing.

“Twitch! What on earth are you doing?” Nightshade called out frantically.

“I wasn't going to hit her! I… I couldn't think of anything else, I thought that would work.” She admitted, her voice shaky.

Twitch flew over to Thrash and Jawbreaker, shouting their names and firing controlled lasers inches from their bodies in a reckless attempt to wake them. The brothers were similarly out cold, however, and nothing she did had any affect on them.

“You need to stop that! If you miss and hit them…” Nightshade began, cutting themselves off as they watched the red drone revert to her bot mode, a defeated and exhausted expression washing over her face. Her large yellow optics seemed to almost wobble in place, a streaking, cold light emanating from them. Nightshade got the impression that if Cybertronians were physically capable of shedding tears, she'd be sobbing right now.

“What's going on, Shady?” She barely managed to speak, nearly choking on every word.

Seeing their usually cheerful, energic sister in such a miserable state was utterly heartbreaking for Nightshade. It wasn't her fault, but Twitch seemed to truly believe whatever misfortune her family had fallen upon somehow could have been prevented by her.

Nightshade, not being the best at emotional support, tried to go for a more practical way of comforting her. “They… they aren't dead.” The younger Terran informed her. Walking over to Jawbreaker, Nightshade gently pried his eyelids apart to reveal intact, glowing optics. They weren't responding to any stimuli, but the fact that they were on was proof that the bots were in some kind of comatose state.

“How did you…” Twitch started speaking, but seemingly lost the strength to continue partway through her question.

“How did I know?” Nightshade presumptively finished for her. Twitch nodded in confirmation. “I've installed vital trackers in all of us. If any of us were to go offline, I would get an alert.” They informed her.

“Oh, that's good. Thank you.” She seemed a little relieved, before realizing the full consequences of what her sibling just admitted. “Wait, I don't remember… when did you install those?”

“That's not really something we need to worry about now…” Nightshade mumbled, not expecting her to question their actions.

“...Nightshade, how many… things have you added to us?” She lowered her gaze a bit, inquisitively. Before questioning them further, her optics lit up, having remembered something.

“I just realized, we never saw Fluffy Ears!” She blurted out frantically. Twitch began zooming around the dugout in her altmode, looking for the baby cow.

Nightshade gave a sigh of relief that her line of questioning was over for now, and joined her in the search.

“Where was she last?” They called out, looking around their lab while Twitch scanned the dugout’s hall.

“I… I don't know, she just sort of wandered off-Oh!” Twitch flew over to a far corner of the room.

“I found her! What are you doing over here, silly cow…” Twitch nudged the calf, who seemed to be fast asleep, resting her head on her flank. Fluffy Ears didn't stir, however.

“...Fluffy Ears?” Twitch was significantly more worried as she spoke this time, her voice getting louder. The calf didn't respond.

Nightshade looked over their sister's shoulders, noting that, thankfully, the little cow was still breathing.

“That's odd, very odd… whatever happened to our siblings seems to be affecting her as well.” Nightshade leaned down and gently stroked Fluffy Ears head, mostly in an attempt to calm themselves down. This entire situation wasn't making any sense, and that scared them. They needed to remain calm, however, if only to reassure Twitch.

The smaller bot looked to her sibling for answers.

“...Do you think it's gotten to everyone in the house?”

“Are you referring to whatever has put everyone here to sleep?” Nightshade attempted to clarify.

“Yeah, I mean, if it got to Fluffy Ears… Mom, Dad, Robbie, and Mo are also organic.”

“That's a good point, actually.” Nightshade pondered. They didn't even think of that. “Are we dealing with some kind of virus that affects both organics and bots? Does such a thing even exist?”

“Forget virus, it's obviously coming from that messed up tree outside.”

“The tree? That can't be right. How could it even…” Nightshade was at a complete loss.

“Seriously, Nightshade? This thing shows up, and suddenly, all of our family is out cold. That can't be a coincidence.” She was exasperated.

“I agree it's strange, but there shouldn't be any way a plant could incapacitate both organics and Cybertronians by just… I don't even know…” Their head was starting to throb like a migraine. Trying to think critically was physically hurting them.

The two siblings just stood there, feeling their own bodies growing weaker with every passing second. It was a sensation similar to being sedated. A feeling they probably would have given into, had Twitch not noticed a strange black tendril poking out of a nearby vent.

“Is that a rat?” Twitch asked groggily. Wouldn't be the first time a rat got into the dugout. But said rats usually weren't so long. And slithering…

“Nightshade! Get down!” Twitch jumped and pushed her sibling down to the ground, just before a huge tendril swung at their head. The tendril instead hit the monitors Nightshade had attempted to fix. A single whack caused not only all the monitors to shatter, but the concrete wall behind them to violently crack.

Nightshade's optics widened with horror. There was no question about it. If that tendril had hit them instead, their head would have been knocked clean off.

The tendril dove for the pair of them, seeming to know exactly where they were despite not having eyes. They both moved to opposite sides, barely avoiding getting stabbed. As it pulled out of the small hole it burrowed into the floor, the tendril opened up for a second, briefly revealing a crimson reptilian eye that scanned the room before closing again.

Nightshade, in an effort to get out of the way, bumped into the table they had placed the reverse bear trap onto earlier. It fell into their lap with a clattering thud. An idea came to them, and they armed the trap to go off again.

“Twitch, take this and have it drive for you again! When it gets close, have it aim for the trap! I think it only keeps its eyes open for a few seconds at a time!”

Twitch, being the faster of the two even in her groggy state, agreed with a nod and flew past the tendril, the trap in her grasp. It took the bait and launched itself directly towards her, where it got the last several feet of its body caught in the trap’s mechanisms.

The tendril squirmed and rattled as the reverse beartrap’s countdown ticked. After a few agonizingly long seconds, it finally went off. Just as it had with the pumpkin earlier in the night, it absolutely ripped its prey apart with ease. Shards of metal and some kind of fleshy material flew to all corners of the dugout.

The worst part wasn't the sight of the impact, however, it was the dreadful noise it made. Whatever the tendril was attached to screamed in pain as its appendage was destroyed. It had a cry like a nuclear siren, low, loud, and ear-piercing. It felt like something you were never meant to hear, and simply perceiving was a sign that you as the listener were at death’s door.

What remained of the tendril receded back through the vents, leaking a runny black liquid with an odd, iridescent shimmer. A few of the larger chunks that had been ripped open were still slightly animate, curling where they lay like a dying spider.

Nightshade cautiously approached what appeared to be the eye of the tendril, or atleast what was left of it.

It was a translucent, jelly-like red substance with an awful black slit for a pupil that had sort of melted into the iris due to its injury. Said pupil shuddered in place one last time as Nightshade got closer, almost as if it could still perceive the bot somehow.

“Nightshade! Are you alright right!?” Twitch said, sounding out of breath despite not actually having lungs.

“Yes, I'm just a bit scratched up. It's nothing but a bit of polish won't get out.”

Without saying anything else, Nightshade grabbed and chugged down one of the energy drinks that their sister left out. “I know I said earlier that us drinking these was probably a bad idea, but I think they might help.” Their sister nervously fiddled with the can’s lid before managing to get it open for herself.

Nightshade scooped up what's left of the otherworldly tendril and brought it back to their lab.

Pausing to consider their next move, Nightshade eventually settled on attaching the still pulsating fleshy bits to a battery hooked up to a light bulb. After a few seconds, the light dimmed before going out completely. The battery was instantly dead.

“It appears you were right after all. Whatever this thing is, it emits some kind of field that drains energy from anything it's near.” Nightshade concluded.

“So that's what makes us feel so exhausted?” Twitch looked very concerned, her optics darting between Nightshade and her unconscious siblings.

“More than likely, yes. And you might have already guessed this, but I assume it's also keeping all our organic family members asleep. My current theory is that this is a hunting tactic.”

Twitch knew immediately what they were getting at. “Sleeping prey can't fight back.”

“Exactly.” Nightshade confirmed. “The fact that we were previously awake is most likely the only reason why we aren't currently unconscious.”

An uneasy silence filled the dugout. The siblings stood in place, the air around them cold and heavy with tension. Without saying a word, both of them knew what the other was thinking: that monster would be back any moment, and they couldn't keep up the energy to fight it back for long. It was a terrible calm before the storm, a feeling reminiscent of succumbing to hypothermia. An overwhelming, intoxicating urge to close your eyes and drift into a sleep you were well aware you'd never wake up from.

And at this moment, every light in the dugout switched off.

END OF ACT 1

To be continued...